


Voisins

by aneclipsedhabitue



Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Craze and Anna just didn't happen OK?, Crossover Pairings, F/M, GA for now but may move onto Explicit, Maybe - Freeform, Romance, Teninch Fic, Whump, a little bit of whump, and some non con, neighbors to lovers, nothing bad though, so it's okay i promise there's a happy ending, there may be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneclipsedhabitue/pseuds/aneclipsedhabitue
Summary: Donald is gone, leaving Betty and her son alone. Betty thinks she's done for- when a charming, noble Frenchman moves in next door.





	1. Stroll

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just sort of popped into my head one day. I just wanted to try and continue writing this ship- it challenges me! I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> (Also I apologize for the title that is probably both not correct and a bit..bleh. Hopefully the actual story isn't!

_February, 1941_

  
In the outset of dawn Betty staggered out of her home. The sun was barely rising, so she knew she had time for a stroll before her small son Mark awoke. It had been so difficult since Donald left.

__

The outbreak of war had devastated the entire world. The occupation of the outer Islands sent a wave of panic through her, yet an unexpected wash of tenacity through Donald. 

“I have to go an’ help luv.” 

“No! No you don’t! Honestly, Donald how could you ever even consider abandonin’ me and Mark? Do we even matter?” 

“Don’t be daft Betty. You know I have family near the occupied areas! I have to do my duty for England.”

After tedious hours of arguing, swearing and crying Betty felt as if her lungs had collapsed. There was no convincing Donald. So, in late 1940, Donald packed his bag, kissed Betty briskly on the cheek and his son on the head and left. Swearing that he would write and be back soon. Going towards the danger to help those fighting underground against the Nazis. Any group he could find to keep his family safe.

Some could call Donald noble. Betty could not. She had not received any letters from him at all.   
  
She remained in Leeds, her newer house that she and Donald and Mark lived in. It was nicer than her old apartments, dingy and ratty with neighbors who were either too nosy or completely absent—now Betty could pop over and borrow a cup of sugar if she wanted. However now that war has broken and Donald is gone, that perfectly neighbor image seems to have faded. It made Betty’s heart grow bleak. Still, with the help of her new neighbors and occasionally her sister Margaret, Betty could find solace in the fact that she wouldn’t be completely alone raising Mark.

At least, not physically alone.

  
However there was a hole in Betty’s heart, and the worst part for her was that she felt that not even Donald could make her happy anymore. She realized slowly that she didn’t miss him. Not in the right way. She missed the idea of him. She longed to be adored, to be touched, to feel needed.

Not even when he was present did Donald really give her that.

It made Betty feel terrible.

Now, whenever she was able to, she would go for walks. Usually around the woods. She loved the smell of the umber trees and the feeling of grass between her toes. Though they never felt the same as they did before the war, it was Betty’s happy place. She was alone. Content. Peaceful.

That was until she realized that she had strayed from her usual path and was now standing in the yard of someone’s home. Betty looked up from her feet to realize she was back in her neighborhood, this house was next door.  She was started turn and walk away when she heard the door open. The smell of cigar smoke overwhelmed the air and she heard a man clear his throat.

“ _Pardon mademoiselle_ ,” The French words were harmonic to her ears.

Betty turned and was met with the curious gaze of Jean-François.   
He was a tall man, broad shoulders. Neat curly brown hair and welcoming brown eyes. He seemed like an average man until Betty noticed his military uniform.

Definitely not average.

“Oh! Erm- M’ sorry. I was out walkin’ and didn’t see where I was.” Betty tucked her head down and wrapped her thin slip tighter around her shoulders. Shy of this man she had never seen before.

With the woes of war spreading throughout the town a lot of Betty’s neighbors had left. Jean-François must have recently moved in, god knows why.

He stood closer to her, she hadn’t even heard his footsteps approaching her over the sound and feel of the frigid breeze.

“You seem lost and cold, would you like to come inside? Maybe call someone to get you?” His voice went softer and his English was surprisingly well. He put out the cigar for fear of making her uncomfortable.

Betty looked up and blushed under his searching gaze.

“N-no um- ‘s alright. I live over there.” She quickly gestured to her home”

His lips twitched, “Next door?”

“Yeah.”

He straightened and extended his hand, “My name is Jean-François Mercier.”   
She looked at his large hand before shakily extending hers.

“Betty. Betty Marren.”   
He took her hand to his lips and kissed it. All the coolness from her body was replaced by a sudden burn.

“It is a pleasure, _mademoiselle_ ”

He released her hand and she tucked it under her chin, stroking her neck but stopped when she noticed his eyes watching the movement.

“I should get back. Me son’s probably awake now. I got to make his breakfast.”

“Yes of course— Do you have enough food Mrs. Marren?” He asked after a moment.

Food had been scarce since the Nazis had occupied England. Food was difficult to acquire for most. Unless you had good connections. Jean-François did. 

Betty wanted to lie. She wanted to tell him that she was practically set for life with food. However she wondered if by him asking, he could almost tell that she hadn’t eaten properly in 4 days. She had given whatever food she had to her son.

“I don’t have much. Whatever I get when I go to the market, I give to me son.” She looked down at her fidgeting hands and then back to him, his lips were in a thin line and his brow creased.

“I will see what I can do.”

“No!” Betty jumped, his eyebrows shot up. “I just mean– ‘s alright. I don’t want you to worry yourself or me be a bother.”

He opened his mouth to protest but her heart was pounding too loudly in her ears that she just had to flee. She turned and walked rapidly towards her house, mumbling a “Nice to meet you sir!”

She felt his eyes on her the whole way home.


	2. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty's plans to stay out of Jean-François's way is thwarted by inclement weather.

She hadn’t gone on her walks after that. She was too scared to see him. He wasn’t threatening or rude, yet he frightened Betty. His politeness and chivalry intrigued her. However, Betty wasn’t that woman, the type to leap into the arms of another man just because her husband was gone. Betty vowed to steer clear of the Frenchman next door.

That changed when she first realized she quarter pound beef and bread were gone.

Betty sighed. She dropped Mark at her neighbor Susan’s home across the street, and started her walk towards the market.

She managed to trade some jewelry Donald had got her for their anniversary for some seeds to plant, some spices, and two large loaves of bread that stuck out the top of her paper bag . She smiled giddily. Despite the harrowing guilt, Betty was also very relieved that Mark would have some food this week.

On the long walk home she noticed clouds form then rain start to fall.

“Oh bugger!” She cried, worrying about the loaves of bread in her the paper bag. She hugged the bag closer and walked faster. While waiting for traffic to slow at a stop walk, a German car passed by her quickly and drove straight through a puddle. Drenched from the bottom of her hair to the toes in her flats, tears began to stream down her face. Betty started to walk when another car started to approach.

“Oh bloody hell!” She sobbed and began to trot.

The car quickly pulled ahead of her, then stopped, then reversed. Betty stilled and her heart pounded. The car stopped next to her.

It was Jean-François.

He winded down the passenger side window down. The sound of the light drizzle not affecting the tenderness in his voice.

“Mrs. Marren, may I give you a ride?”

Betty couldn’t bear to think how horrid she must look. Her damp hair sprawled across her tear stained cheeks and clothes drenched. With the bag in one hand she wiped her hair from her face and tried to shake her head.

“You’ll catch a cold out here walking. We are still a few meters from our neighborhood. Why not let me help you?”

“I really can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I just don’t think I should.” She started, “plus me soaked clothes. I’ll ruin your car seats.”

“It’s just rain water. Please, I insist.”

“But you must so busy. You must have so many things to do.”

A small smile formed on his lips, “Nothing that cannot wait.” He reached across the passenger seat and opened the door. A move that surprised Betty.

She looked around apprehensively then climbed into the car. Shutting the door and curling around the soaked bag.

Jean-François looked over at her, frowning at the bag.

“It was bread.” She whispered. Not daring to look up.

She heard him sigh, but say nothing more. She wondered what he was thinking.

He continued driving for a moment until he looked back at her, at her dripping hair, the goose-pimpled flesh of her arms and the clammy wet clothes clinging to her body. Highlighting her feminine curves, his cheeks formed unhappy dimples as he silently chastised himself. Now’s no time for that.

“Mrs. Marren.”

She looked up and can’t suppress her lips from trembling.

“You are shivering, you should borrow my coat.”

“I can’t-t do th-that.”

“I think you should. You don’t want to get pneumonia, especially when you have your son to think of,” He sounded pleading. As if reasoning with a child.

The mention of Mark startled Betty. She tried to speak but just shivered harder. The silence spoke volumes. He pulled the car over.

He reached behind the seat. He took his coat and wrapped it around Betty’s shoulders, his hands went under her hair at the nape of her neck grazing softly. His skin was warm against her and she could hear his breathing. Neither of them spoke.

“Thank you sir.”

“Call me Jean-François.”

She blushed, afraid would butcher his French name with her accent. “This is kind of you.”

He shook his head slightly, as if it was no big deal. He started up the car and continued down the watery road.

“How is your son?”

“Mark? He’s alright. Thanks for askin’”

“How old is he?”

“He’ll be 4 in April.”

A soft smile appeared on his lips. He looked over at her curiously.

“Where is your husband Mrs. Marren?”

Betty blinked. “Oh erm-”

“Forgive me. It’s none of my business”

“It’s okay” She said quickly. He looked over at her again. She cleared her throat, “he has family in the Channel Islands.”

Ah.

“So he went to help them?” He asked

“Yes.”

“Leaving you here?”

Betty paused, he had a point. “Yeah well, ‘s not safe over there. Plus Mark would be starting school soon and me sister lives nearby.”

Jean-François looked over at her again. Studying her features. After a moment she dared to meet his eyes. He half smiled and looked back to the road.

“So..you French then?”

“Yes. I was a military attaché at the French embassy.”

“What are you now then?”

“I’m helping General de Gaulle with the French resistance from London.”

“Oh. What are you doin’ here?”

“I didn’t want to live in the city. As much as I enjoy a busy life, I desired some peace and quiet. I commute whenever I am needed.”

“Seems like a long commute.” She mumbled.

“I beg your pardon?” His voice sincere.

“Oh ‘m sorry. Me manners have fled. It just seems tiring from the way you put it.”

His eyes softened, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

They rode on in silence, getting closer to the houses. Betty couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement at being in his presence with his coat wrapped around her. She subtly tried to smell the inside of it, dipping her nose into the inside, inhaling the scent of cigars, brandy and musk. It was intoxicating.

Betty looked around his car. Swiveling her body to look in the backseat. She noticed a rifle along with other hunting equipment, a military cap and gloves and his satchel. Peeking through was what appeared to be a sketchbook.

“Do you draw?” She asked bravely.

He looked over at her and smiled, “When I find the time.”

She blushed at his smile and turned back. She noticed her hands were no longer shaking, his coat had helped.

The car stopped and she realized they were outside of her home.

She shrugged the coat off, suddenly embarrassed for feeling so comfortable–too comfortable. Her cheeks flushed and she tried not to meet his eyes.

She handed the coat over, “Thank you Jean-François,” she said his name gravely and carefully. 

She felt him take hold of the coat but not pull it towards him, she looked up to find him staring at her. Gentle eyes and a soft smile that sent a warmth through her shivering heart.

“You’re welcome Mrs. Marren.”

“Call me Betty,” she closed her eyes, afraid she somehow made a mistake in allowing that.

She got out of the car.

“Take care, Betty.” He said her name gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you those who are reading this story, I hope you’re liking it!


	3. Plants & Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an actual proposal [yet] ;)  
> However this is one Betty is quite ambitious about.

A few days later, in the peak of the afternoon Betty was in her garden. The warmer weather gave her hope that she might be able to plant the vegetable seeds she had received from the market. Betty knew logically the odds were against her however she had to try.

The papers Donald had left her were not adequate enough to receive a ration card. Hence, why Betty had traded a fur coat passed down from her great grandmum for food. It was an enormous risk, but Betty would do whatever it took to provide for her son. The soaked bread barely satisfied Mark. She had hoped if she grew something, she could make him more food. Betty felt wrong wearing animals for fashion anyway.

Betty was digging in the ground when she heard a twig snap. She looked up to see Jean-François approaching.

“Hello Betty,” he smiled, ”May I have a moment?”

Betty nodded. He extended his hand to lift her off the ground. They walked back towards her patio. Sitting in the chairs.

“I came to tell you that food was delivered to me.” He said

She looked up, “Oh—blimey. That’s great!”

He smiled at her startled expression, “A colleague brought some from France—too much. Along with food I have tea and coffee as well. I am not much for tea but there is very good coffee. Perhaps you would like some?”

Betty thought of tea. Imagining how good it would taste. Made from leaves, and in a French way she hadn’t discovered yet. Betty used to make tea every morning back before the war. Now all she could do was quaff simple, thin, bland and cold coffee. It was all she could find. She imagined the rich smell of the French tea and the way the world around her would become more sharp.

She shook her head.

“‘S kind of you to offer, but no, I can’t take it.”

His silence made her anxious.

“I jus’ mean it wouldn’t be right.”

He looked at her with a quizzical frown. The sunlight enhanced his features, the lines on his forehead, the delicate lashes on his eyes, his thin lips that Betty imagined pressed into hers. However his eyes, usually so warm, were dense and rather melancholy.

“I think you’d truly like it.”

“Why d’ya think that?”

He smirked and with his head gestured to her mug on her patio table. Betty had made a cuppa coffee before tending to the garden.

Oh.

“Please, Betty, that is not coffee. That is colored water.”

“‘M used to it.”

He smiled sadly and looked her over with pained eyes. She felt a tang of remorse.

“But you deser-” he cleared his throat, “you can do much better. Why choose not to take it?”

Betty was puzzled. Gobsmacked at his words and even more at the hint of a beg in his voice. She so desperately wanted to say no.

However she thought of Mark and worry ran through her, she had to make sure he ate.

“Can you– I mean, can I jus’ have enough to feed Mark?”

He frowned deeper, “But what about you?”

“That’s askin’ too much.” She looked down.

She heard him step closer until he was hovering above her. She rose up to meet him yet only made it to his chin. She never felt so small in her life, and Donald was at least 5 inches taller.

She looked up to meet his concerned gaze, “I promise you Betty, it is not too much. Please, let me help you and your son.”

Betty’s throat closed and she ached to touch his cheek. “Why?” She whispered.

He took a step back, leaving a draft in the air that made Betty shiver. “You are the only one in this neighborhood who is kind to me. I enjoy your company.”

She was startled, she can’t imagine why people would be rude to him. Perhaps it was his nationality, or military attachments. Regardless, she felt honored.

She simply nodded and looked down.

He smiled and stepped forward again. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of tinfoil.

“Until I bring you the food, have a little treat.”

Betty is about to protest when he silently stopped her, extending the item further into her. She took it and unwrapped it with shaking fingers.

The smell of the chocolate made Betty’s mouth water.

“Oh, Jean-François–this is much too kind.”

He waved his hand and shook his head, “Please, it is of no trouble at all. Enjoy it.”

She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her, "I apologize. I must be going now, but expect the food soon.”

“Thank you– Jean-François.” Betty smiled at him.

He held her gaze, making her blush.

“Thank you Betty.” He turned and walked away.

Later that evening, after giving Mark some chocolate, she put a small piece of it in her mouth. Savoring the rich taste and letting it melt against her tongue. She moaned softly and smiled as she realized this was the first day she had truly felt happiness since Donald left.

That night Betty dreamt of him. In her dream he was holding her close—just holding her, his body pressed completely against hers. Wrapped protectively around her. In her slumber it felt as if it was the most natural thing, as if it was meant to be. Betty woke up appalled, but blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems this story is "meh"  
> However chapter 4 is where things kind of progress. If this chapter goes well with reviews and notes, you might just get that chapter very soon! As a special treat! ;)


	4. Nourishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty receives the gift of a lifetime from Jean-François. 
> 
> Slight kid fic! warning. Mark does become a bit more present but not a main character, I hope that's all right!

  
“How are you, Betty?”

Betty blinked, startled out of her trance.

Margaret was looking at her, Mark in her lap. They were seated in Margaret’s living room. Bland tea on the table and a low fire cracking. It would be dark soon, but right now Betty was too preoccupied to worry about curfews and bedtimes.

“Fine.”

“Really? Cos you look distracted.”

“Yeah—’M okay,” Betty lied. Truthfully she was distracted. Imagining what Jean-François’ curly hair would feel like through her fingertips.

Guilt snapped Betty out of her thoughts. It had been a while since Betty had seen her sister. She did not live too far from Betty’s new house, but the trip was tedious.

“Sorry Margaret. Me mind’s just in the gutter.”

Margaret smiled sympathetically and patted Betty’s knee.

“You miss Donald don’t ya?”

Betty was silent for a moment, did she really miss Donald?

“Yeah.” Was all she said.

She was lying. Margaret disregarded Betty’s silence and continued ranting about her husband and her factory work. It was nothing new for Betty to be brushed aside, she still enjoyed being with her Margaret.

Betty silently thanked the heavens that Mark was dozing off in his aunt’s lap, it gave her an excuse to go home.

As soon as Betty and Mark rounded the corner to their house Betty noticed a blanketed item on her porch. Half hidden behind her broken porch swing but obvious enough for Betty to see it. Not wanting her neighbors to steal it she raced to pick it up and brought it inside.

She brought it to the table and unwrapped it.

A basket, full of assorted breads and meats and herbs and a bottle of French wine. The sight made Betty’s eyes water. Along with the food was a note.

_Please feel no guilt Betty, this is my pleasure. Let me know if there is anything else you want.  
                         -Jean-François Mercier_

Betty stared at his handwriting, traced it with her finger as if trying to engrave it on her skin.

Mark’s cry interrupted her.

“Mummy! ‘M hungwy!”

Betty kissed his head and placed him at the table

“How’s a sandwich sound luv?”

—

Later that night when Mark was tucked to sleep, Betty sat at her kitchen table, staring intently at the basket. She had tried to use as little of the basket as possible, despite the note she did feel guilty.

Guilty because she felt she did not deserve the kindness Jean-François gave her, and even more guilty for wanting more.

Betty is married, she isn’t supposed to fall for another man.

Betty considered bringing the basket back, but she thought of Mark’s happy face as he ate his sandwich. Could she really take that away from him?

She was interrupted from her debate by a soft knock at the door. Betty jumped and nearly tripped over her own feet getting to the door.

“Who’s that?”

“Betty? It’s Jean-François.”

Startled, Betty stuttered as she opened the door.

His cheeks were flushed and his hair a bit more ruffled. He looked nearly exhausted and perhaps a bit tipsy. The sight caught Betty off guard. He breathed a sigh of relief, she grew even more confused.

“You all right?”

“Yes, oh I’m terribly sorry. I know it’s late, I just came by to see if you got the basket.”

Betty’s cheeks flushed, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry for the manner I gave it in.”

“What d’you mean?—Oh! Leaving it outside?”

“Yes, I apologize.”

“ ‘S alright, but why did you?”

“I had to commute today and was in a rush, but I wanted to make sure you got the food as soon as possible.”

“Oh—yeah. Thank you again, Jean-François.” Her voice faltered

Noticing her stray he dipped his head down, ”Is something wrong?”

“I think you gave me too much,” She said quickly.

He blinked, “Too much?”

“Yeah. I mean–I appreciate it but I can’t help but feel…”

He chuckled, “Did you not read my note?”

She nodded and bit her lip, his eyes lowered to it.

“At least take the wine back.” She implored.

“Why?”

“Cos I don’t drink.”

He smiled brightly. “Would you at least like to try some?”

She stood motionless for a moment, then was snapped out of her thoughts when she realized they were still in the doorway.

“Oh god, where are me manners? Would you—would you like to come in?”

Jean-François looked a bit uncertain, but followed her inside.

“We have to be quiet, Mark’s asleep down the hall.”

Betty retrieved the bottle and handed it to him. Giving it back.

Misreading her actions he smirked, “Where are your wine glasses?”

Unable to turn him away, she lead him to the kitchen and grabbed one glass. He took it from her thankfully and poured the wine into the cup.

Betty looked around, not sure what to do when she realized that he was holding the glass out for her.

“Oh, I probably shouldn’t,” she stammered

Once she met his quizzical and imploring gaze, she succumbed to temptation and took the glass from him. He poured himself some in another class and raised his arm in attempt to clink the two together. She did politely, then swirled the drink around in the glass. She sniffed it first, then very slowly brought it to her lips. His eyes never left her face.

She grimaced and he chuckled.

“Blimey! I always heard it tasted like grapes but people were clearly lyin’!”

“Thank you for sharing with me.”

“Thank you for bringing it to me.” She took another sip.

“Did Mark enjoy a good meal this evening?”

“Yes!” Betty exclaimed a bit too loudly, the few sips of wine she had already choked down were making her head swim. She uttered an apology and blushed.

Jean-François waited until her eyes met his again before speaking, “I’m glad.”

They were standing so close now. Betty backed into the counter and Jean-François hovered over her, smiling gently.

Betty looked down, “How comes you’re so nice to me?”

It took all of Jean-François’ will not to kiss her, he settled for grazing her cheek swiftly, making her gasp. She wished his fingers remained there.

“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be?”

He started to lean in and she shut her eyes, her heart pounding when she heard a voice.

“Mummy?”

Betty gasped and Jean-François took a step back.

Mark was in the doorway of the kitchen, in his jammies rubbing his little hand over his eye.

“Marky, sweetheart. You alright?”

“Bad dream Mummy! Bad dream!”

Betty’s heart fell, she looked over apologetically at Jean-François—but was relieved to see that he did not look dismayed at all.

Jean-François stepped towards the child and knelt down.

“Hello there Mark, my name is Jean-François. I like your pajamas”

Mark looked quizzically at him, Betty stepped in.

“Mark, what do we say?”

“Thank you!” Mark exclaimed and Jean-François smiled.

Jean-François stood up and patted the boy on his head.

“I think I should get going.”

“Alright..Marky say goodbye to Jean-François please.”

“Bye!” The boy yelled and raced back to his room.

Jean-François chuckled and looked back at Betty. He frowned at her body language, she seemed embarrassed. Perhaps he had done something wrong.

“Goodnight mademoiselle.” He took her right hand and kissed it. Betty still didn’t meet his eyes.

With a sigh, he left her house and a sudden chill ran through Betty.


	5. Sketch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small reconciliation and a drawing session

 

  
Betty dared to go for a walk that morning. It had been nearly a week since Jean-François leaned into her mouth and she had not heard from him since. She wondered what she did wrong.

It was dawn again, and Mark was still asleep. Betty purposely off routed from her trail, passing through the backyards of the rows of houses and eventually Jean-François’.

He was sitting out back, a book in hand and cigarette in his mouth. At the sound of her footsteps he startled and jumped up and stomped out his cigarette.

“Betty,” He breathed.

She bit the cuffs of her cardigan. He stood tall in his uniform and she suddenly felt small to him.

He looked down at his shoes uncomfortably, “How are you, Betty?”

“ ‘M fine.”

Once she met his gaze he realized she was lying. She looked like she had been crying.

Under his gaze she fretted, “H-how are you?”

“I have been...better,” He replied slowly.

“Sorry.”

“Betty,” he took a step towards her, “I want to apologize.”

This surprised her, “What for?”

“If I was too forward with you the other day—If I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t.”

Jean-François blinked, “Then why–”

“ ‘S just hard, alright?” Tears brimmed her eyes and she stepped forward a bit, “With Donald gone an’ everythin’”

“You must miss him very much.”

At hearing this Betty choked on a sob, but no tears came. The next thing she felt was Jean-François’ hand on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles.

Betty raised her head, “I’m a married woman. I’m not supposed to be hangin’ around another man, no matter how much I wa–” she trailed off, his was face inches from hers, “No matter how much I wanna,” she whispered.

Jean-François smiled sadly, and loosened his hand on her back but not removing it. He knew in his heart that he would wait, no matter how long—he would wait for her.

“Betty…”

“But ‘m not easy.”

Jean-François blinked, “I don’t understand.”

“I bet you think I’m easy cos I’m married but I wanna….I’m not easy.”

He smiled, “I don’t think you’re easy Betty. Not at all.”

Betty’s eyes welled up with tears, “ ‘S not fair.”

“What isn’t fair?” His fingers found their way to her cheek, resting them there. She leaned to his touch and the tears finally came.

“That I have to be married to a man who up and left me—left his son!” she cried and took a step back lowering her head and now whispering, “He’s never comin’ back—I just know it! ‘S not fair that Marky doesn’t get his Da. That he’s stuck with me.”

Betty was suddenly pulled into Jean-François’ arms and she started to cry.

“Shh,” he repeated, “No, no please. It’s all right. I’m sorry—it’s all right.” He placed his lips on top of her head and tightened his arms around her, rocking their bodies back and forth.

After a few moments Betty leaned back. Her cheeks damp and her eyes rimmed red. She sniffled and swiped at them angrily.

“‘M sorry.”

“You needn’t be.”

She stood there for a few moments, loosely still in his arms and clutching at his uniform.

Unsure of what to say next, Betty turned her back and slowly started to walk away.

“Betty wait!”

She turned her head.

“May I ask a favor of you?”

She nodded.

“Do you remember how you noticed my sketchpad, and how I like to draw,” he says, “I wanted to ask if you would sit for me.”

Betty stood still, unsure of what to say.

“Betty?”

She cleared her throat and looked down and gingerly wiped one last tear–”Your place or mine?”

Jean-François’ smirk sent a tingle down her spine.

—

After tucking Mark away for the night, sure that he wouldn’t wake for a few more hours Betty stepped out into the dark cold night and made the short walk to Jean-François’s house.

Betty knocked on the door as softly as she could. He opened the door with a smile on his face.

“Betty,” He sang her name in a whisper.

He lead her inside and removed her jacket for her. He hung it on the coatrack by the door and walked her to the living room.

“May I offer you a drink or something to eat?”

“ ‘M fine thank you.”

He poured himself a drink and while his back was to her, she absorbed the room. There was a fire cackling in front of a soft white fur throw rug. The room was a wine-red and was illuminated by two large lamps. Between them was a large bookshelf. Betty looked over them curiously. Old, leather-bound books covered the shelves, some classic English books she knew of, most in French, some even in German. The walls had maps and diagrams all around and in the back corner near a window was his desk covered with documents. She realized this was also his study.

“You got a lot of books,” she marveled.

He smiled behind her, “Do you see anything you like?”

She smiled and gestured to a large book with a French title, “This one’s thick.”

He stepped over and looked at it, “Ah, Charles Baudelaire.” He smiled.

She blushed as he opened to a random page and recited to her.

“Mais ne suffit-il pas que tu sois l'apparence,  
Pour réjouir un coeur qui fuit la vérité?  
Qu'importe ta bêtise ou ton indifférence?  
Masque ou décor, salut! J'adore ta beauté.”

Betty blinked at him, unsure what the words meant but knowing that they were somehow endearing to her.

“I jus’ might have a drink if you don’t mind.”

He poured her a glass of wine and Betty took a few sips. Not trying to get drunk but attempting to loosen her nerves. If Donald saw how Betty was behaving right now, he would barely recognize her. The thought frightened Betty.

She cleared her throat, “So erm—where do you want me to sit?”

“Oh! Yes! Come, please.”

He lead her over to the couch. Facing the fire, illuminating her face. Betty suddenly wished she had spent more time tidying up her hair.

Jean-François sat on the other end of the couch, far enough to fully see her yet close enough to radiate a warmth between them.

“Where do I look?”

“If you could turn a bit more to your right please…” he said, “Yes! Perfect. So the fire will fall on you.”

As he began sketching her his eyes rarely left her. He held up the pencil, squinted then resumed drawing.

The only sounds in the room were the pencil on parchment, the crackling of the fire and the pounding of Betty’s heartbeat in her ears.

“Jean-François?”

“Yes?”

“Why—” she cleared her throat “why am I doin’ this?”

“Well, I was hoping to draw at least once a week. Somehow knowing shapes, architectures and structures of buildings and landscapes and knowing people's’ faces, it helps in my work,” His tongue touched his upper lip as he continued, “The drawing sooths me. I wasn’t very good when I started, but I think I’ve improved. But it’s been too long, work got tedious. It seems that when you stop doing something, you lose a bit of your touch,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “And lastly—I wanted to see you again.”

“You could have come ‘round.”

“Could I?”

“Yes.” She turned her head to look at him but stopped midway to resume her position. She mumbled an apology and her eyes traveled downward.

“I apologize..again, I thought I had done something wrong.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Hmm,” he half smiled, “we’re quite the pair then.”

Betty’s heart stopped at his use of we’re. She wondered if it was a result of his drink. She hoped it wasn’t. He kept staring at her mouth and sketched in silence. Finally after a few moments he put the pencil down.

“Can I see it?”

He smiled almost shyly and handed over the paper. Betty was stunned—she could tell that Jean-François wasted no effort. Everything from the hairs of her eyebrow to the little pimple on her chin, even sketching what she felt were imperfection, she felt like the Mona Lisa.

He made her feel like a masterpiece.

“‘S—really good,” Betty laughed

“I suppose,” he said, “But I didn’t draw your hair too well.” He touched the paper and then very slowly brought his finger up to her curls, “I couldn’t quite capture it. It is lovely though.” He slowly toyed with a hair curl then moved his finger to her cheek, caressing lightly. Heat coursed through Betty’s veins, she held her breath.

“Jean-François?”

“Yes, Betty?” His voice was so warm and gentle. It made Betty’s heart soar.

“Can I keep it?”

He was surprised—pleased. A toothy grin on his face as he handed her the paper.

“I should–I should go. Thank you Jean-François.”

He stood up and pulled her up close to him, “Thank you, Betty.”

He tentatively brought his arms around her and she melted into his embrace. Betty’s dream played through her head. She shakily raised her head and kissed his cheek. His eyebrows shot up and he smiled. He was about to lean down when Betty started to flush and sputter and she took a step back.

“Sorry. ‘S not that I don’t wanna—I’m just a bit....”

“It’s okay.” He laughed and smiled again. “Betty?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“May I take you out sometime?”

“Where would we go?”

Jean-François reached into his back pocket and pulled out two tickets to the symphony at The Grand Theatre & Opera House for Friday.

“Oh, Jean-François..”

“Say you’ll come with me.”

“I...I can’t–”

His lip pouted, “Why?”

She lowered her head in shame, “People...people will see us…” Jean-François’ face grew sullen as a realization dawned on him, “Jean-François I’m still married to Donald. People see me with you and even if Donald never comes back, I can’t.”

He said nothing.

“I’m so sorry.” A tear dropped from her eye.

“No.” He said. She looked up. “No don’t be sorry. I should have remembered. I don’t want to ruin your reputation.”

He started to lead her towards the door with a sullen look on his face. Tears still streamed down her face, “Jean-Fraçois wait, please!” He faced her, “I still want to...I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly and put a hand on her cheek, wiping her eyes.

“We just...have to lay low for a bit yeah?” She gleamed up at him with hopeful eyes.

He nodded, and smiled.

“I’m so sorry I can’t give you more Jean-François. But I have me son to think of. An’ me sister. An’...an’ Donald too. ‘M so so sorry.”

“Betty, it doesn’t matter how we go about being together, all that matters is that we are. If you still wish to be that is.”

She nodded and smiled.

“May I walk you home?”

“ ‘S okay. ‘S just over there. It’d be kind of silly.”

He smirked and kissed her cheek again. He wished he could kiss her on the lips but he knew it wasn’t the time.

He watched her receding silhouette into the night.


	6. Secrecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little encouragement, the impossible suddenly becomes possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit short but if all goes well, you can expect big number 7 tomorrow. Maybe. Don't hold me to it

  
“So, Susan how are ya?”

Susan lived across the street. Her husband was off fighting. Her and Betty were more sisterly than Betty was with her actual sister. Friends for years, they were a great source of solace for one another.

Susan was the definition of a doll—her red hair and matching freckles always brought out by her bright clothes. Floral and flowy pink and yellow skirts, clothes you wouldn’t see on a soldier’s wife. Betty was quite surprised by her cheerful attitude.

“Oh me? Oh I’m perfectly alright!”

Betty hummed in response, she wasn’t convinced.

Mark and Susan’s lad, Jonathan were running through the yard as the two women sat on the porch and enjoyed the rare sunlight.

“Actually Betty, I have a secret!”

“Oh yeah?”

Susan looked around to make sure the boys were still occupied with picking and throwing leaves as she leaned forward and put a hand on Betty’s knee and whispered, “I’ve got a beau.”

Betty’s eyes widened, “Wha’? Are you serious?”

Susan merely nodded with an ear to ear grin.

“His name is _Aleksander_. Came here from Poland and he’s absolutely perfect.” Susan gloating, articulating his name and winking.

“Susan! I don’t believe it!”

Susan was educated. Born and raised in London. She moved to Leeds with her husband for a simpler life after the first World War. She was a successful writer before the war, this wasn’t like her.

“Oh Betty, promise you won’t tell!” Susan cried, clenching her hand around Betty’s knee.

“I won’t-I won’t! But what about your husband?!”

Susan sighed and picked at her painted nails. “He’s not comin’ back.”

Betty blinked, “Is he…”

“No,” Susan stared at the ground, “But he isn’t coming back either.”

Betty’s heart sank. She thought of Donald, she wondered if he was coming back at all either. He never wrote her, no telephone calls, no contact whatsoever. She felt a pang of regret at her surprised tone with Susan, after all, in a way they weren’t so different.

_She’s seein’ a Pole, and I’m seein’ a Frenchman_

“Susan,” Betty cleared her throat, “ ‘M sorry for raisin’ me voice.”

Susan smiled softly, “Awh, that’s all right. I understand, and I know it’s a surprise,” Susan toyed with her wedding ring, “It’s just hard. It wasn’t easy for me to do this. I thought a lot of my husband but I can’t—I don’t,” she sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Susan sighed and looked solemnly at the boys.

Betty’s heart clenched, “Actually—” Susan looked up, “Yeah...Yeah I do.”

“What do you mean, Betty?”

“I...I got someone too. Someone other than me husband.”

Susan’s face instantly brightened, “Oh Betty!”

“Well, ‘s not really like that.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean we haven’t...done anythin’.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“But you would like to?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, why not?”

Betty looked up at her friend, a whole new image of her formed in Betty’s mind.

“Why should I?” Betty raised her chin.

“Because from the look in your eye, I can tell what your heart desires. You like him, you should pursue him!”

“But Susan, everyone will know.”

“So? Let them stare. If anything they would just be envious that you didn’t this blasted war get in the way of your happiness.”

“But it’s dangerous.”

“And worth it,” Susan smiled, “at least for Aleksander and I.”

Betty grew silent, her heart started to twist. She thought of Jean-François. His smile and the way his eyes crinkled, how tender his voice grew when he said her name, those magnificent brown curls on top his head that Betty imagined tickling the inside of her thighs as he—!

A wild current went through Betty as she snapped out of her risque thoughts. Betty labored her breathing to calm her pounding heart and looked back at her friend. Susan smiled mischievously.

“He...he wants to take me to the symphony on Friday.”

Susan smiled, “Will you go?”

Betty bit her finger but slowly nodded, “Will you watch Marky?”

“I’d be glad to.”

“Alright,” Betty sighed, “But I have nothin’ to wear.”

Susan smiled and stood. She extended her hand to Betty and with a twinkle in her eye said, “Come with me.”

  
Later than night as Betty twirled around again in her in her dress for the symphony she scurried over to the phone and hesitantly dialled his number knowing it was too late and rude to actually go to his house.

“Jean-François Mercier.” He sounded tired.

Betty bit her lip in guilt, worrying that this was a mistake but before he could hang up she croaked out, “Hello.”

“Betty?” His voice suddenly full of life.

“Hi erm,” she cleared her throat, “I was jus’ callin’ ‘cos I was wonderin’ uhm—”

She could practically hear his smile as he asked, “Yes, Betty?”

“Can we still go that symphony?” She said all too quickly.

She heard him chuckle, “It would be my honor and pleasure Betty.”

Her heart leaped, she giggled and hesitantly said, “So, Friday then?”

“Friday.”

They said goodnight but neither got a wink of sleep.

Friday was a day away.


	7. Symphonies & Scandals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the symphony has finally come! However a lesson they both need to learn is that not much comes easy for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This chapter's a bit more risqué, but nothing explicit! [yet. maybe.]

Betty spent all of Thursday mentally preparing herself. Having Susan come over to teach her about classical music.

“If he loves you Betty, it shouldn’t matter how smart you are or how well you know music.”

“He doesn’t _love_ me Susan. And he’s bringin’ me to a nice place! I jus’ don’t wanna embarrass him.”

Susan smiled sympathetically, and they resumed their date simulation.

Jean-François was nervous too. For the first time in his life, a woman was intimidating to him. Her smile made angels sing. Not for a very long time has he felt so naïeve.

His normal confidence faltered at her. Betty was special. She deserved the best, and he would will his whole heart to give it to her.

However, he was concerned. Not just for what may happen between them, not just for how the wars’  
progression will affect his work, but for her safety. She was not wrong when she worried about what her town would think. Jean-François had taken notice on how they would stare at him as he left his house or went to the postal office.

They were a closed community, and he was still unwelcome.

If people saw Betty with him, would they find a way to tell her husband? Would they question or harm her? The idea sent a flare through him, a burning, seething rage that he had not felt since he fought in the war.

Jean-François sighed and continued his work at his desk thinking of how tomorrow might just be the greatest or most regretful night of his life.

 

When he arrived at her doorstep at 7 o’clock, he looked around apprehensively at the other houses, wondering who was peering at him through their curtains.

All his thoughts were forgotten as soon as Betty opened the door.

Her hair was neatly curled and touched the tip of her shoulders. Her dress was a light lavender, it fit her form perfectly and was completely classy. Her lips lightly shaded with a tint of red and a natural blush flustered over her cheeks. She smiled and his heart pounded.

“Betty,” he breathed, “Tu es belle.”

She peered up from blushing at the floor and looked at him through her eyelashes, “Does that mean what I think it does?”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it, “Beautiful.”

“I had Susan help me.”

“Not much was needed.”

She chuckled and he extended his arm to her and they linked elbows and headed for his black Austin car. Betty couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought of his wealth—was she really worthy for him?

The drive to the symphony was silent, with the exception of a few idle comments about their days.

“What did you do today, Betty?” He smiled.

She shrugged, “Nothing important.”

“Nonsense.”

“I played with Mark, visited me mum, and spent a few hours with Susan getting ready.”

He smirked at that.

“I jus’ don’t wanna embarrass you.” She mumbled into the floor.

His neck snapped and his eyes flashed over, but his voice was calm and comforting, “You never could Betty.”

She remained silent.

The car approached the city center and Betty felt a new wave of anxiety. There were a lot of people.

Jean-François stopped the car and got out, he walked over to the passenger side and opened the door for her. They linked arms again as they walked towards The Grand.

The inside is nothing like she imagined. Hundreds and hundreds of seats and the tallest ceiling she had ever seen. The golden walls of the room further illuminated by the abundance of chandeliers and bright lights and the red velvet seats were warm and inviting. Betty lost her breath at the sheer beauty of the place, this was the Leeds she dreamed of—this was the Leeds she longed for.

Jean-François kissed her hand again as he lead her to the private box above the side of the stage. Betty winced, that must have cost him a pretty penny.

The booth darkened as the orchestra started up their instruments. Betty soon found herself in a trance, the melody and harmonies sent ripples of joy through her heart. It had been so long since Betty had heard music and this orchestra was stunning. As more instruments joined in, Betty chewed her fingers to keep from cheering. She wasn’t sure how to behave at these things.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Jean-François smiling at her, she worried for a moment that he was mocking her, but when she met his gaze, she felt like the most treasured creature in existance.

He looked at her with adoration.

By intermission she had tears in her eyes. She shot him a grateful smile and they rose and decided to take a stroll through the lobby. Clicking their glasses as they marveled at the paintings at the walls

“Are you enjoying the concert?” He asked.

“ ‘S beautiful!” She beamed at him and dabbed lightly at her eyes, “Thanks for this.” She rubbed his arm.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“D’you mind if I use the restroom?”

“Not at all, I will wait.”

She smiled appreciatively and went to freshen up.  
In the bathroom she took notice of her appearance, her hair was a bit flustered and her lipstick was a bit smudged. She sighed, a sudden wash of insecurity filled her. She fixed it as best as she could, not wanting to keep Jean-François waiting.

As she exited the bathroom and started to search for him she heard a voice.

“Betty?”

Betty startled and turned around, her heart fell into her stomach.

Standing in front of her was William Rosenfield. Donald’s best friend, a veteran who now helped in the Resistance, although rumours have spread that he secretly sided with the Nazis. William stood tall over her. His dirty blonde hair and green eyes which used to marvel at Betty and Donald were now flaring and accusational. William was a man with money, and good connections. However, William was a snob, fortune and leisure turned him rotten, despite claiming to be Donald’s best friend he was very condescending. He thought Betty simple, not good enough for Donald. William put Donald on a golden pedestal. Seeing her at the Grand, knowing she couldn’t alone only furthered his conception that she was nothing more than a common cow.

Betty’s heart pounded, she should have realized the possibility of running into Donald’s more prestigious friends here.

Oh bugger. Betty thought. She started to stammer, “Oh...Hiya Will–you all right?”

“Brilliant! I’m here with my colleagues on our free night. The champagne is splendid, don’t you agree Betty? Why are you here?” He flared his teeth at her, a crooked smile that made her shudder.

“Oh jus’...enjoying the music.”

He smiled faded–he knew.

“Betty,” his voice became dark, almost menacing, “who brought you here?” He stepped closer to her, the overwhelming stench of liquor rolled off him and made her head feel light. She took a step back stammering—

“I did.”

Both of them startled and turned to meet the stoic gaze of Jean-François.

“Who are you?” William growled.

“This is Jean-François. He’s me neighbor.” Betty stepped between the two.

“Oh, is that so?” The false smile came back.

“Yes. I took Betty out as a token of gratitude.” Jean-François said.

“Gratitude? Gratitude for what?”

“It was me idea!” Betty said loudly. Both men stared at her, “He’s new here an’ I’ve heard you talk about this place before William and I jus’ thought it’d be nice for him to see it an-”

Suddenly the lights flashed, the intermission was ending.

“As much as we would love to continue this conversation, I’m afraid we must be going.” Jean-François said cooly. He placed a hand on Betty’s lower back and started to lead her away.

William stepped forward, “Y’know pet, I’ve had contact with Donald.”

Betty froze- she turned back and her voice croaked, “What?”

“I know exactly where he is. I’ve heard from him. We exchange letters, he often asks about you,” he sneered, “Really, Betty. How could you do this to him?” He slurred and uttered, “Filthy..I could tell him all about your little date here.” He took a menacing step toward her. Somehow he was not intimidated by Jean-François’ furious glare.

“I–”. Tears filled her eyes as Betty lost her voice, she started to shake and she broke away from  
Jean-François and ran out of the theatre.

The outside air felt even cooler. Betty debated walking home, but her legs and rest of her body were shaking so hard she knew she wouldn’t make it. She settled for sitting in the backseat of Jean-François’ car which thankfully was unlocked. Tears further smeared her makeup as she curled around herself on the far side of the car.

  
Minutes passed. Dark, freezing and chest heaving minutes.

Suddenly the car door opened— of course he found her. However Betty couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, just as she couldn't she sit in the front where more people could see her.

For a moment he stood in outside the car, but being mindful of the night air he entered and shut the door.

Betty curled tighter around herself. Trying to steal her shoulders, but failing.

She heard his voice, “Betty…” and felt his hand on her back.

“ ‘M sorry.” She sobbed.

“No, no. Please—come here.”

He wrapped his hands around her trembling body and brought her to him. He examined her face and deflated as he took in her tear stains.

“I’ve mucked this whole night up!” She cried.

He held her chin, willing her to look at him. “You haven’t.”

“Alls I wanted was to-”

“I know.”

She was silent for a moment and she bowed her head and trembled.

“Betty, please. Raise your eyes and look at me.”

She did.

He wiped a finger along her tear stained cheeks, “I promise, nothing has been ruined. And as far as that man goes, he will not be bothering you anymore.”

She sniffled, “Whatddya mean?”

He chuckled lightly and moved his finger along the apple of her cheek, “Firstly, he’s a liar and embarrassingly drunk. He has had zero contact with Donald. Why he tried to scare you is beyond me but it was unacceptable. Would you really think I would let him get away with upsetting you?"

Betty was stunned. No man has ever defended her to such an extent. She peered into his eyes and found the truth in them. Betty tentatively reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, his leaned into her touch and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“Who is that man anyhow?” He frowned.

“That’s William. He’s got money and knows good people. He really knows me an’ Donald... But he’s a snob, all that money got to his head. Even though he’s Donald’s best mate he’s a right git!”

He chuckled as she clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Sorry.” She blushed.

“Not at all, you’re right. He is a git, but I swear to you—your honor is safe.”

“Jean-François…” she whispered. He couldn’t stand it, he leaned it slowly and captured her mouth with his.

Her lips were as soft and full as he had imagined to be. Betty’s whole body started to tremble as she kissed him back. She kissed him with such a passion and such need that Jean-François emitted a small groan and was bewildered by her hands oh each side of his face. “Oh, God…” he whispered into her parted mouth.

Betty wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. They kissed frantically, as if each breath were leaving their bodies as they leaned back further into the car seats.

It was all so much for Betty, yet not nearly enough. She opened her mouth and moaned. He took her head into his hands, “Oh, Betty,” he murmured. “You’re very _sweet_ ,” he pecked her lips again, “the sweetest thing.” He kissed her lips and licked them with his tongue, he kissed her cheeks and neck. She brought her face back to his.

His lips were hungry and insistent that Betty felt she was unable to breathe air, she started to sink down even further into the leather seats of the car.

Jean-François was lost in himself, unable to pull away despite knowing he had to. He knew in his heart this was wrong but he simply couldn’t stop.

It was the cry Betty emitted when he cupped her breasts that brought him back to reality. He sat up and took sight of her gasping and trembling form.   
“Betty, we can’t here.” He moved his hands from around her and rest them on her calves.

Betty sat up but tried to pull him down with her, “We can—’s okay.” She ran her fingers down his body and he groaned. She tried to do it again but he stopped her.

His hands on her wrists, “Betty please. You’re upset. I don’t want—no I do, but not here. Not in the back of my car, not tonight.” He said solemnly.

Betty groaned and sat herself up, “Oh bugger. I made a right idiot of meself,” she put her hands in her face and peered at him through her fingers. He did not look angry at all.

He took her hands from her face and kissed her knuckles, “Betty, you must know I want you with every fibre of my being.”

Betty nodded but didn’t speak. She lowered her eyes, “Can we go, please?”

He nodded and moved to leave the backseat, when she didn’t join him, he sighed. Not wanting to push it.

The drive on the way home was silent. Jean-François kept glancing back at her leaning against the window and chewing her fingers. Sniffling, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Betty opened her eyes to his hand on her face, “Betty, beautiful Betty, you’re home.”

She smiled at him sitting next to her in the backseat, and let him walk her to the door with his arm around her. At the door she wrapped her arms around him. Sniffling into his embrace she whispered, “Are you sure I didn’t muck it all up?”

He pulled back and held her chin, he slowly leaned in and kissed her. Betty parted her mouth and ran her tongue along his bottom lip and she felt his arms wrap around her. They held each other tight and eventually broke for air, and rested their foreheads against one another.

“Betty…” he breathed.

“Come inside.” She whispered. He looked pained as was about to say no, but she was persistent, “No, no. Just—come inside. Just to sleep. Please, please I need—” her eyes filled and she was about to tremble again.

He kissed her head and whispered, “Okay.”

Hand in hand, she lead to her room. Jean-François was met with 4 dark yellow colored walls and a single bed in the middle of the room. The lights were off so he was unable to take in more details before Betty sat on the bed. She kicked of her shoes and grabbed a tissue from her nightstand and wiped her lips.

Jean-François stilled, unsure of what would happen next, he looked over at her, looking for confirmation. Betty had tears in her eyes again, the weight of the night still heavily on her shoulders. “Please, please jus’ hold me…” she whispered. He half smiled and removed his coat and bow tie.

Betty moved over on the bed as he slid under the covers. He opened his arms for her and she slid into his embrace. She breathed in his scent at the crook of his neck. “Speak French to me, please?”

She felt his cheeks rise in a smile as he tightened his grip on her. He kept repeating phrases and recited poetry and at one point sang an old French lullaby to her until he heard her breathing even out. The rumble of his chest from his voice was humming Betty to sleep.

Before she closed her eyes she remembered her dream—of him holding her.

Suddenly a surge of hope flowed through her and she felt the stars align just for them that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every story needs conflict, right? I just hope my impromptu, probably not historically accurately described character was enough.


	8. Bonheur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough night at The Grand, a blissful day is requisite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's taken so long. In all honesty I've been struggling with chapter 9 not realizing I never posted chapter 8
> 
> I don't know when my next update will be, but again I'm sorry and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (p.s in case you didn't know- this story is unbeta'd.)

Jean-François awoke to Betty stroking his jaw with her finger. He opened his one eye and smirked at her. “This was surely not what I expected ma chérie.”

Betty pulled up on one elbow and smiled down on him. She blushed, “I know. I know this isn’t what you expected, and ‘m sorry.”

He sat himself up and gazed into her eyes, “Just because this isn’t what I expected,” he lifted her hand and toyed with her fingers, “does not mean I’m unhappy.” He kissed her fingers and smiled. “Are you all right after last night?” He furrowed his brows.

 “I can’t believe he made me cry. I can’t believe I jus’ ran out like that. I’m sor–”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted, “you should be angry. God knows I am.”

“Don’t be. Don’t let him ruin your mood.”

“If he bothers you again, I want you to tell me.”

“Jean-François…”

“You’ll tell me...Please.”

She bit her lip, “Alright,” Betty looked at him through her lashes, “so then, last night, what did you imagine?”

Based on the tongue touched grin on her face, he realized what kind of answer she was looking for. “Well…” he started, “I imagined I would have taken you out to dinner after the show. You looking as beautiful as always. Then after we’d take a stroll through the park, I’d take you back to my apartment,” he slowed his words and peered into her eyes, “and then I’d make love to you.”

Betty’s cheeks turned crimson and she looked down.

“Betty?”

“Mmh?” She closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows.

“Have I said too much?”

“No! No, ‘s just…”

He raised a hand under her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Betty?”

“Look, despite what erm...what I tried to do in your car last night—which isn’t like me! ‘S not the type of girl I am” she added quickly and turned her head away and whispered, “ ‘S been a really really long time.”

Jean-François’ heart softened at her innocence. This was the Betty that captured his attention. Shy, cautious, reserved. She was wrapped in layers that he ached to peel away.

“When you and your husband—”

“I never liked it with him!” she snapped her head toward him, “He-he don't...I’ve never...we only done it a few times but then I got pregnant and he hasn’t–” her words cut short by his lips on her cheek.

She gasped and he pulled back and smiled at her. “Betty, please don’t worry. I will never pressure you into anything. I will wait as long as you’d like.”

Betty grinned and gently pressed her lips to his. “Thank you.” She whispered.

He wrapped his fingers around hers.

“Do you have work today?” She pouted a bit.

“No. No, I’m all clear for today,” he half smiled, “what did you have in mind?”

She gleamed, “D’ya wanna spend the day with me an’ Mark?”

His smile turned into an ear to ear grin. He peppered soft pecks to her mouth and cheek making her giggle and they both leaped out of bed to make breakfast and get Mark from Susan’s house.

–

Mark and Jean-François were running around Betty’s yard. Mark in a fit of laughter as the older man chased him in their game of tag. Betty smiled as Jean-François finally caught him and spun him around in the air.

It was a tad awkward when Betty retrieved Mark from Susan’s. As if Susan could tell what Betty was hiding. Betty promised to give her details later and left with a naughty giggle.

“Oi luvs, your food is up!” Betty called. She brought out some meat, bread and wine for him. Jean-François smiled as he realized it was from the basket he sent.

“How does it taste, Mark?” Jean-François smiled at him.

Mark simply smiled back and continued digging into his cut up meat, getting juice all over his face. Betty ran a hand over his little head, and without looking at him addressed Jean-François, “I haven’t seen him this happy since Donald left.” She faced him, “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure Betty.”

Once Mark was down for his afternoon nap, Betty found Jean-François cleaning the dishes.

“Oi! No need, lemme do it!”

“It’s all right, Betty.”

“No no, please. Lemme, you go an’ make yourself comfy in me sittin’ room. S’alright.”

After they tussled in the sink for a moment, Betty and Jean-François found themselves flicking specs of soap bubbles at one another. When some landed on Betty’s cheek she couldn’t help but blush as he wiped her cheek with his thumb and pecked her face sweetly. They finally decided to compromise, she scrubbed as he dried.

When they finally finished, Betty took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“So, what now?” She lightly tickled and he squirmed. Her eyes lit up and a mischievous smile spread across her face.

“Betty…” he smirked down at her, “Do not start something you can’t finish.”

She tickled him again and laughed as he squirmed again, she turned and sprinted out the back door to the forest giggling. He collected himself from his spasms and chased after her.

He got outside and ran to the trees. He stood very quietly in the woods and listened for her. He could only hear the sounds of insects and the soft chirping of birds. He looked all around him and slowly moved forward, “Betty, oh Betty,” he called for her. “Where are you? Where have you gone? You better have hidden yourself good because once I find you....” He drawled out the words, trying to make her laugh. He stopped talking and listened.

He kept on walking and calling out to her, “Oh Bettyyy! I forgot to tell you something really really important!” He didn’t hear a sound, he smiled.

He stood in a clearing in the woods, on a slight hill past the trees. He called out to her once more before he suddenly felt someone push on his back and two bodies slightly rolled freely down the hill.

Jean-François caught himself before he crushed Betty, both of them are out of breath. “Are you all right?” He smiled.

Betty gleamed up at him, still panting. She giggled and tried to squirm free but he held her down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he laughed and held her down as she tried to get away, “Where on earth are you off to?”

She giggled and gave up her fight. He was still on top of her. She tried to tickle him again but he caught her hands, smirking at her as he brought them over her head.

Both of them said nothing, but something was understood.

“Jean-François?”

“Yes?” He asked as he brought a hand down to stroke her dishevelled hair and cheek.

She stared deeply into his eyes, “This has been the happiest day of me life.”

His smile was so sweet, Betty couldn’t resist lifting her head up and pressing her lips to his. It was anything but frantic, this wasn’t the kiss of a couple living in secrecy—this was a kiss of two souls basking in each other's presence. It was the sweetest kiss either of them had ever had.

When she broke for air, he moved his lips to her neck. Careful not to leave a mark, no matter how difficult it was.

“Betty?” He murmured against her skin.

“Yeah?” Her voice was hoarse.

“This is the happiest day of my life too.”

She smiled and clutched him closer. They stayed like that in the field, tasting and learning each other’s, disappointedly clothed bodies until the evening breeze of the sunset broke them apart. They reluctantly stood and walked back to the house hand in hand.

Neither of were them aware of the shadow lurking in the trees or the cigarette it stepped on.


	9. Intrusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A bit of a non/con. Can be intense if you're sensative.
> 
> A/N: Hiiiiiii. So writing is HARD. I would apologize for taking a month to update but honestly is anyone still interested in this? lmao. 
> 
> However, if you are- thank you! This is unlike anything I've written before and is a bit out of my comfort zone. Your patience means the world to me.

Mercier was gone, assigned back to Warsaw to gather some information on a few confidential operations to report back to his colleagues. How long he would be gone was indefinite, and it broke his heart. It had been hard for him to leave Betty, and harder for Betty to let him leave.

 

  
“Please don’t go.” She whispered into his chest. They still hadn’t progressed their relationship sexually, with how much Betty had repressed they decided to slowly easy into it. “I’ve lost too much already. Not you too, please.”

In that moment, under the moonlight shining into his bedroom, they shared a bottle of wine, and a warm cuddle. He was leaving tomorrow, but she couldn’t bring herself to commit to him yet.

 _When he gets back,_ she thought.

“Betty, I don’t want to go. I wish there was any other solution, but I have a duty.”

She lifted her head from his chest. “You’ll come back though, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you write to me?”

“Probably not,” he sighed as her brow furrowed, “the ghettos seem to be worse than ever. It wouldn’t be safe. For you or me.” He stroked her hair from her face. “I’ll come back,” he pecked her lips, “I will.”

She nodded and pulled him in for a kiss. Neither stopped until they both lay trembling.

 

 

After two and a half weeks, Betty seemed to have adjusted to this newfound loneliness. She kept up with her routine but she missed him terribly. Betty went through her days as best as she could. Visiting her mum, telling her of Jean-François. Knowing her secret would be safe with her. She had taught Mark to say a few French phrases she learned from Jean-François. At one point she was even called down Mercier’s former office where she was questioned. Apparently the incident at the Grand had circled. She was questioned by a man she had never seen before in her town, his face scarred across his cheek and a permanent scowl dawned.

What happened at the Grand Mrs. Marren? Who is that man? Are you two having an affair? How long have you two been involved? What of your husband Mrs. Marren?

“I don’t know!” Was her mantra.

All these inconveniences just made her miss Jean-François more. Finally, after two hours of excessive and intrusive questioning they agreed to let Betty go. Finding no cause to keep her but promising that she would hear from them again.

On her way out the door, a sickening voice halted her trot.

“Hello Elizabeth.”

Betty stumbled in her tracks and a chill went down her spine. “What d’ya want William?” she crossed her arms over her chest, ashamed she had forgotten that he worked there now.

“I have questions.” He gripped her by the elbow and hauled her into the closest vacant office. Once the door was closed behind them he turned her to him and slammed her into it. Betty squirmed against him but to no avail. She felt his hand slip under her blouse and over her undergarments and she tried to scream. He put his hand over her mouth in a bruising grip.

“If you wanted to be unfaithful to your husband,” he sneered into her ear as he pressed himself to her, “it should be with someone of value.”

Betty bit his hand in anger at the spiteful words against Jean-François, he growled and went to backhand her, she barely dodged it. In one last ounce of strength she raised her knee and hit his groin. He staggered backward and she ran out the door. He chased after her.

In the midst of her panting as she ran Betty heard his voice. “I’ll be seeing you Betty! Any word from him against me ,and not only next will time be worse, I’ll have that bastard exposed and arrested!”

Betty sprinted all the way home until her lungs began to burn. She was relieved that it was dusk, most of the town would be in their homes so no one would see her. She stopped at her door and paced her porch, her hand on her chest as she heaved and hyperventilated.

She had just started to cry when a voice interrupted her, “Betty?” She turned and was met with an astonished look from Jean-François.

He looked a mess. His cheek slightly scruffy, his hair disheveled, and dark circles were under his wide eyes. He was wearing a dark green jacket, and his rucksack was hauled over his shoulder.

“God! Oh Christ- what happened?!” He rushed up her porch and threw his bag down. He hovered his hands over her newly bruised face.

Betty gaped at him, shaking her head and threw her arms around him. “You’re back,” she whispered.

His hands slowly came around her and he rocked her back and forth. “I’m here Betty. _Mon ange_ , I’m here,” he pulled back and his eyes flared at her cheek, “What. Happened?”

Her lip wobbled, “Come inside.” She started to tug him inside.

“Betty…” his eyes burned into her but she shook her head.

“ _Please_. Just come inside.”

  
Once inside she went straight to her kitchen and closed the blinds, then to the back door and locked it. Her shoulders kept shaking until she felt his hand on her, rubbing soothing circles. He gently turned her to face him and she was shocked to see that his eyes were watering. “Who did this to you?” he whispered.

She bit her lip as tears formed in her eyes, “What happened in Warsaw?”

He frowned, “Betty, I will not talk about anything until you tell me what happened,” his voice softened as he sighed. “Please.”

“It don’t matter...and you can’t go after ‘em.”

He frowned, “It _does_ matter and yes I _can_.”

Her head shook frantically, “Please, please don’t. If you care about me at all then you’ll just let this go. I can’t risk ya, I won’t!”

“Betty, what are you talking about?”

She looked down. “I was threatened if I told. And you can’t do anything cos then they’ll hurt you or Mark somehow and I won’t risk it.”

His nostrils flared. “Just answer me this, nod if you have to—was it that man from The Grand?”

She nodded.

He leaped away from her and seethed. “ _Merde!_ I told him! I told him to stay away from you, I tried to intimidate him and–,” his shoulders slumped, “Betty, I’m very sorry.”

She slowly crossed over to where his head was bowed over the sink. She placed a hand on the back of his shoulders but he violently flinched away, she pulled her hand back with a gasp—as if she had been burned.

“ ‘S not your fault. It’s over, it’s done. Just… please stay out of the spotlight for a while yeah? He may have people watchin’ you.” She wrung her hands together and started picking at her cuticles.

“Like I care.” He scoffed, then turned to face her, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He took her hands into his own.

“Well, I won’t let anyone hurt you either!”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then bent down to kiss her. She responded, letting all her ambivalent emotions come through she took his bottom lip between her teeth and he met her with his tongue. Their arms came around each other in a crushing grip.

He pulled back with a gasp and rested his forehead against hers, “Betty…”

“Mark’s at Susan’s tonight.”

“Oh Betty,” he sighed, “I just–”

She silenced him with her lips again and he was done for. With a shy smile on her lips, she lead him to her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a tease! Depending on *ahem* what I can write, this may change ratings. The next chapter could possibily be smut, so if you're into that- fantastique, and if not then you can skip it!
> 
> But nothing is set in stone! We shall see!


	10. Le Soulagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jean-François finally consumate their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rate change. 
> 
> Here it is- the big one. Not too much plot, so if smut isn't your thing, feel free to bow out.

  
Their lips never parted as she opened the door behind her back and twirled him around so that the back of his knees hit the bed. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Despite her desire Betty couldn’t suppress her trembling. It had simply been too long.

“Betty,” he breathed, “look at me.” She did, and he furrowed his brows. “Are you...are you frightened?” She nodded and bit her lip. “No, please don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” He hugged her close, “We’ll go as slow as you need to, okay?”

Not wanting to seem too delicate, Betty pressed into him and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He groaned and moved to unbutton her blouse as she fought to struggle off his coat.

Once completely bare to each other they took in their sights.

He marveled, “ _Fantastique_.”  
As she breathed, “Blimey.”

However her admiration was cut short when her eyes roamed over his various scars across his torso. Her biggest surprise was an angry red mark healing on the top of his left shoulder, he had gotten stitches.

She sprang forward with a gasp, “Oh God, are you okay?!”

He took her hand from his chest, “I’m okay, and I will explain later,” he sighed and smiled, “right now I need to feel _you_ , Betty.”

He took more control as he wrapped her in his arms and placed her on the bed. He ran his hands over her torso and she arched into him.

“Your heart is like gunfire…” He slowly bent down and took her nipple into his mouth. “Don’t be afraid, Betty. You tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

She blinked up at him, “What I want?”

He smiled and nodded, “Anything.”

She took his right hand in hers and brought her lips to his palm kissing him softly and he hummed in appreciation. She very slowly brought his hand further down her body and to her lower belly, hoping he would know what she was asking.

He buried his head into her shoulder with a groan and ran his hand over her lower belly and then over the skin of her thighs. Betty started to tense up beneath him and close her legs. He kissed and nibbled her neck.

“Betty, _mon ange_ , trust me...Please.”

She sighed and melted into the mattress and brought her hands to rest on his forearms. She nodded at him in silent conformation. With his fingers he parted her thighs and traced her thigh upward slowly. His fingers finally touched her. His breath stopped. Her breath stopped. He kissed her lips and whispered into her ear, “You feel unbelievable.” He stroked her clit up and down and then in small circles. Betty mewled softly under him. “Let me hear you Betty.” He pecked her cheek.

Betty gasped as he slowly inserted a finger into her, producing a wet squelching noise that caused Betty to flinch and tuck her head away. He chuckled and said, “Show me how this feels.”

He set a slow, tantalizing rhythm which slowly increased. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into the pillow and moaned. She licked her lips but her tongue was replaced by his lips. He kissed her neck, adding to the sensation. Betty felt her inner muscles start to tighten and a fire formed in her lower belly, she opened her eyes wide. “Wait, wait—stop. Please.”

He raised his head from her neck and removed his hand from her, “I’m sorry, was that too much? Are you all right?”

She nodded, “I just felt somethin’...weird. I dunno.”

His eyes softened as he realized what she was feeling. She must have never felt that with her husband. “Oh Betty.” He kissed her passionately. “Let me do this for you.” He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck. He lowered himself down past her breasts, moving his hands up to them, flattening them and squeezing him together. Betty writhed underneath him. He brought himself to her center and her eyes widened in realization. All former doubts disappeared and left nothing but her need for Jean-François. She opened herself fully to him and cried out as he ran his tongue from bottom to top and kissed her enlarged bud.

“Oh my God, oh God!” She whispered as she buried both her hands into his head and he hummed against her. Moving his lips and tongue in various patterns. Her thighs started to quiver and the fire returned. “Oh no, Jean-Françoii—!”

Betty felt her entire body stiffen and explode into a convulsive burn, then a lava melt. She panted and pulled him lightly by his hair back up to her. He ran his hand over the tears on her cheeks, “Okay?” He smiled sheepishly at her.

“More than. What _was_ that?.”

His smile turned wolfish and he kissed her again. “That was relief. I intend to make you feel that many, many times…Are you ready?” He asked against her as he bit her earlobe.

“Yes.” She smiled, then blinked up at him, “Can I…”

He nodded eagerly and she reached down with her right hand took hold of him. He was long and firm and unlike anything she had felt before. She experimentally ran her hand up and down him as he closed his eyes and gasped. It sent chills down her spine, but just as she started to stroke him faster he quickly took hold of her hand and brought it above her head.

“Let me...Let us…” He growled and panted. She nodded encouragingly.

He brought himself in hand and stroked lazily . He positioned himself at her opening and pushed in little by little. His eyes never left hers, and her hands wrapped around his neck. Her mouth and eyes opened wider as he slowly filled her.

“ _Magnifique_.” He said at last.

At first they both laid very still, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Her body started to ache as she raised her hips to encourage him.

Very slowly he pulled out slightly and pushed himself back in, causing Betty to grit her teeth, but through her gritted teeth she moaned. He started to thrust a bit harder and she started to pant. The slight pinch slowly beginning to fade into a wave of pleasure Betty had never felt before. She opened her eyes in wonder at him. Sweat broke from his brow and she brought her hand to her neck and brought him down for a kiss. He started to move faster. “Am I hurting you?” He asked against her lips.

She shook her head, “Go faster.” She bit his shoulder.

He growled and kissed her. He increased his pace, thrusting quicker as her moans grew more intense and her breath shortened. She ran her nails down his back and gripped his bum. He kissed her clavicle and palmed her breast with one hand. His other reached down between them and drew circles over her and she cried out with a smile. His grunts filled her ear as her flame rekindled, she felt her calves quiver and she tightened her thighs around him. She arched off the bed and met his thrusts in a deep moan, and he continued to thrust into her. When she heard his groans mount higher she knew her was close. She clenched her inner muscles around him and with a moan of her name, he pulled out and spilled on her thighs.

He laid on top of her for a few minutes panting heavily. She brought her hands up and ran them through his hair.

Lifting himself off of her, Jean-François blew on and kissed her wet forehead and chest. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He whispered tenderly against her bruised cheek as he kissed it softly. “Betty, _ma chérie_ , tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled, holding him to her. “Are you okay?”

He laid down next to her and urged her to lay with her head on his chest. “I’m wonderful. Never been better.” He chuckled softly.

She pulled back from under his arm and faced him, “Jean-François, was it…”

He kissed her eyes, “Better than I imagined.”

She blushed, “For me too,” she ran a hand over his chest, “Sorry for making you wait so long.” He shook off her concern and kissed her. He smiled and gold embers shone in his eyes, but it quickly faded as he tentatively brought his hand to her bruised cheek. He rolled on top of her again carefully and kissed her clavicle.

She heard him mumble something into her neck. “What was that?” She asked.

He lifted his face, “Never.” He kissed her, and ran his hands over her cheeks, “Never again will I allow any harm to come to you.”

She saw the raw burning emotion in his eyes and it brought tears to her eyes. He smiled and kissed her again

She bit her lip and traced the mark on his shoulder, “What happened in Warsaw?”

He chuckled and returned his face to her neck, “Later,” he grumbled and planted a kiss on the junction between her neck and shoulder. She wanted to press into it more but the warmth radiating from his body was lulling her to sleep.

He started to move but she held him down. “Stay.” She whispered into his ear and petted his hair. He made a noise similar to purring which soon dissolved to soft snoring. His face rested into her neck and his arm and one leg wrapped  
cozily over her. He blanketed her with warmth and comfort. She smiled and let the soft breeze coming from her window and the feel of his chest rumbling rock her to a blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Did I do decent? This is my first smut piece and it went through plenty of em, awkard read throughs and edits. I hope you enjoyed, I suppose! 
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will  
> be up, but thanks for all the support I've gotten already! You're all the best!


	11. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Betty learns about what Jean-François saw in Warsaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is explicit!

 

Betty awoke to the feeling of fingers softly grazing her hair and neck. Once she was more in tune with her senses she no longer felt the warmth of his head in her neck, but she could feel his eyes staring down at her. She furrowed her brows and mumbled incoherently, turning more towards him and she opened her eyes.

“Sorry,” she heard him whisper. He stopped moving his hands, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” It was still very dark out and she could just barely see his concerned yet distant gaze. He was propped up on one arm and looking down on her.

“S’okay.” She stretched a little and sat up to meet his eye level, “Why are you up?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t sleep much. Always on guard.”

She worried her lip and slowly ran her hand over his injured shoulder, “Is being on guard about Warsaw or what you and I did tonight.”

He chuckled at that, “No, what you and I did was _spectaculaire_ ,” he kissed her hand on his shoulder then gathered it in his own, “Warsaw was not.”

“Tell me what happened. Please, don’t lock me out of this.”

He waited a moment, then solemnly said, “There is a wall in Warsaw, amongst the Ghettos. It circulates the Jews, the wall was built under the orders of the District Governor. As it was being built back in 1940, the Nazis exiled about one hundred thirteen thousand, Poles and ordered well over one hundred twenty thousand, Warsaw Jews be relocated there,” He looked away as if unable to continue.

Betty leaned over and stroked his chest, waiting to hear more but not wanting to push him.

“They closed it off to the public, The Nazis did that in 1940. Getting to the border is seemingly impossible without the possibility of getting shot by policemen from the Battalion 61,” he smirked darkly, “but not if you use underground methods.”

“What did you see there?” She whispered.

He sucked in a breath, “Surprisingly, they do have societal systems. All of it underground operations, but there were secret schooling lessons for children, and hospitals and soup kitchens and refugee centers were formed.” He had a soft smile on his face, but that quickly fled as he said, “That doesn’t mean there weren’t hardships. Famine. Disease. People dying in the streets, _children_ dying in the streets. You could see...all hope has left them. Despite trying, there’s always that hopelessness underneath.” He shook his head and muttered a swear in French.

“Oh Jean-François…”

He shook his head more dreadfully, “I shouldn’t tell you this.”

“No, no. Please do!” She pressed her lips to his cheek and whispered, “If you’re allowed to, please. Tell me.”

“...A long time ago, I considered Warsaw to be a home. To see it so destroyed...” Tears filled his eyes and he angrily wiped them with a sniff, he looked away.

“Who did that to you?” She ran her finger over the healing stab wound on his shoulder.

“The reason I went was to get a good look at the damage done by the Nazis. Learn the routes and backwards streets that could be towards our advantage, see if we could recruit some people on the inside. I reported all this to some colleagues fighting in the Resistance. But apparently, getting a good look means getting ambushed for food and water by some thugs who didn’t recognize me nor believed my alias.”

She wrapped her arms fully around him and squeezed him tight. “Sorry,” tears formed a lump in her throat, “Jean-François, I’m so sorry. Nobody should have to see or go through that.” Her heart broke, not just for the people of Warsaw and Jews around the world, but for him as well. She had never seen such a vulnerable look in his eyes and she ached to allay it.

He turned her to him and wiped her eyes, “Ah Betty, it’s all right. At least I’m back here, with you.” He smiled and kissed her cheek, “The whole time I was there I only thought of getting back to you.”

She smiled at that, “You’re so brave.”

His smile faltered, and the stoic mask returned. He merely nodded once and said, “I do my job.”

She felt her heart sink at his dismissive tone, “S-sorry...Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Stupid, stupid Betty she chastised herself.

“Betty,” he sighed drearily, “No, _mon_ _ange_ , you didn’t. It’s just…I haven’t told you much about my work. The things I’ve done.”

She sobered up a bit, and caught on to where this was going, “I don’t care about your past, Jean-François.” She raised her chin but softened her voice, “But, I hope you can trust me enough to tell me at least a bit. Cos...I won’t judge you.”

“Well, I have killed before. In the war which I fought. Not to mention sometimes I had to..eliminate potential enemies,” he sniffled. “Though I knew I had no choice, it doesn’t make it better. And sometimes...my work with the Embassy included recruiting men, and sometimes women. To get information. My colleagues and I would give them identities to...spy on the Nazis, get intel on the Gestapo and other of Hitler’s operations.”

She nodded, “Go on.” She whispered faintly.

“But sometimes, they got caught. Then questioned, arrested...And then they got killed.” He finally languished and turned his head away again.

She took his chin in hand, and turned her towards him, “And tha’s your fault, how?”

“Betty, I’ve sent men and women to their deaths.” He seethed through his teeth. “Can’t you see how...how inhumane and _cowardly_ that can be.”

With a tumble of their bodies and a turn of her hips she was suddenly straddling him, his head back in the pillow and her leaning over him. She took his hand in two of hers and pressed it to her cheek.

“No,” she whispered fiercely, “you are not a coward.” She kissed his hand.

He shook his head, “Betty…”

“No!” She cried, “A coward is a man who don’t fight for what’s right. _You_ do! I–I know that men die sometimes when they work.” He winced but she continued, “But that ain’t your fault! Please! Please don’t think like that. A cowardly man is..is..a man like William who takes what he wants without askin’ or—” she bit her lip and shivered. Remembering the feel of William’s grotesque hand over her breast. She lowered her voice to a whimper, “Or, a man like Donald. Who-who just leaves his son and—.” Tears welled her eyes and she hiccuped.

Jean-François sat up and wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “Shh.” He rubbed circles on her back and kissed the crown of her head repeatedly. He placed his hands on her head and met her eyes, “Thank you Betty.” He whispered. “You know, you’re no coward either.” He swept hair away from her face and looked proudly at her, “My beautiful brave Betty.”

She smiled a bit and closed the distance between them. He kissed her back deeply, parting her lips with his tongue, his fierceness met her stubbornness in a battle for dominance that ultimately Betty won when she took his arms and pinned them down. With an apprehensive look, she slowly rotated her hips over him, pressing her warmth into him.

He sucked in a breath with a gasp, “Betty…”

“It’s still dark out, an’ will be for hours. We could still get some sleep.” She kissed his pouted lip, “But, _after_.” She said in her best sultry voice and he grinned wickedly.

“It seems I’ve lit the fire within you, Betty.” His eyes shined and he took her breasts in his hands. He smushed them together, kissing the tops of them then rolled her perked nipples in his fingers. “You are so lovely,” he pecked her lips, “ _so_ beautiful.”

She gasped and ground harder into him and with her hands, she reached down to touch him. She was surprised to find him more than ready. Instead of grinding into him again like he anticipated, she kissed his face and neck. She went further down his body and her palms followed the trail of her mouth until she stopped as his lower abdomen.

She looked up at him, “I wanna return the favor you did me before,” he gaped at her and her voice faltered, “but I never did this before.”

His smile faded, “You don’t have to.” his voice taught.

“I want to! I just..hope I can erm—please you.”

“Have faith in yourself Betty,” he tilted her chin up, “to me you’re a goddess. Anything you do will be more than satisfactory.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She beamed at him then kissed his lips and resumed her trail down his body, kissing each scar and making a mental note to learn their stories later, until she was met with his erection. She placed little kisses around him and he sucked in a breath. He groaned out her name and she mercifully took him as far in her mouth as she could. What she couldn’t reach, she wrapped her hand around and he had to restrain from thrusting into her. She began to move slowly, gaining more speed and confidence at the sound of his gasps and moans. “You may have never done this before,” he gasped again and ran a hand through her hair, “but you’re doing fantastic.”

She continued sucking him, hollowing her cheeks and swiveling her tongue. Her hand pumped frantically and she hummed around him. He was practically chanting her name when he reached down and lightly tugged her up, “As wonderful as this is,” he gasped, “I need to have you.” He growled. She smiled and straddled his lap again, he raised his eyebrows but made no attempt to flip them over. Betty took him in hand and lined him up at her, she sank down on him with a gasp. “All right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” she hissed and lifted off and on him tortuously slow. She started grinding down on him harder and marvelled at his expression. His eyes squeezed tight, his brow furrowed in concentration, and his teeth clenched together. He reached down and gripped her bum and thrust into her. She cried out and started to lean back a bit, hoping to push him deeper and gasped when she succeeded.

Her hands rested on his calves and her head was thrown back, exposing her neck he was more than glad to cover with kisses as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her more tightly to him. Her hips moved more rapidly. Reveling in how wonderful it felt to be filled by him, her flame started to burn once more as she gasped his name out.

His thumb found her clit and he started rubbing with purpose. He thrusted into her as much as he could. With a cry, she came and pulled him into her arms to hug him, still grinding her hips into him. He flipped them over and with a grunt, thrust into her once, twice, three times before pulling out and spilling out on her stomach.

His head returned home to the junction of her neck and shoulder as he panted. “Oh Betty.”

“I love you.” She sighed and then gasped as his head snapped up to meet hers. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t-”

He cut her off with a kiss, perhaps the most passionate one she’s ever received. He put his forehead to hers and said, “I love you too. So very much.”

She bit her lip and whispered, “Please don’t leave me again.”

He kissed her forehead and grunted in response. It wasn’t exactly promise, but for now it would do.

She closed her eyes and smiled as he pulled her to lay down on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and when he thought she was asleep he said it again in French.

“ _Je t’aime, mon ange_ Betty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since beginning this...catastrophe, I am actually [somewhat] proud of this chapter. I really tried to go the whole "Secretly guilty war vet" route, and what better solace for that than to be in the arms of your beloved.
> 
> Also the smut, I tried. Again.


	12. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These violent delights have violent ends

Jean-François came into consciousness with a jolt. Jostled by a nightmare he had of The Great War. After a few deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth he pieced together where he was.

 _It was July, 1941 and he was in Leeds, England._  
_In the home of Betty Marren.  
Betty…_

He wiped the sleep from his eyes without opening them and with a sigh he turned to cuddle into Betty, seeking her warmth to soothe his pounding heart. He was met with cold sheets and his eyes popped open. Stretching with a strain, he pulled on his clothes and groggily made his way to the kitchen. He was about to call Betty’s name when the her voice stopped him.

Her back was to him and she was cooking eggs in her pan, humming and softly singing Fred Astaire’s _Cheek To Cheek_

 _“I'm in heaven_  
_And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak_  
_And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek. Ta ta tum tum_.”

The sight of Betty swaying so at ease, and Mark now returned from Susan’s lightly banging his fork against the table formed a lump in Jean-François’ throat. What he would not give to see this sight every day for the rest of his life.

She continued humming as the eggs were frying. Betty wasn’t a huge fan of eggs, but ever since June eggs were rationed all across Britain. She had to make do and sometimes not even Jean-François could help.

She startled when his arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Oh! Blimey! You scared me!” She laughed and allowed him to sway her side to side.

He hummed and nuzzled his nose into her hair. “You sing wonderfully.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, “Heard that did ya?”

He turned her around in his arms and smiled at her. His eyes roamed over her features highlighted by the post lovemaking and sunlight. “Beautiful.” He breathed.

She could only smile and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. He was about to wrap his arms around her when Mark’s whine interrupted them.

“Oh! Sorry. Marky, you hungry?” She asked and he hummed with a nod. “What about you? I can’t imagine how long it’s been since you ate somethin’.”

Jean-François nodded and sat at her table. She put out the plates with their food. She sat down across from him and turned to Mark, humming as she cut his food into smaller pieces.

“Don’t spill your milk Marky. Good lad. Hafta not waste!” She smiled and nibbled on his cheek making him giggle.

“Betty, I need to talk to you about something.” Jean-François’ voice was apprehensive and it sent a nerve ending chill through her spine.

“What about?”

“What you asked of me last night. When you—” he cleared his throat, “—asked me not to leave you again.”

Betty dropped her fork, her mouth going dry and her appetite fading. She tucked her chin down in fear. “Oh?”

“I may make plans to leave.”

She nodded, still not raising her head. “And if you do...When will you be back?”

He waited until her eyes finally met his, “I wouldn’t.” Betty started tremble and stutter, and he covered her hand with his. “Come with me?”

Her head snapped over, “Wha?”

“To South America, North America, Canada- the works! You, Mark and I. Come with me mon ange. Let’s go somewhere safe. You can have a magnificent garden and I’ll cook for you. Come with me _mon ange_ , come with me.” He was shaking, something was clearly wrong, this just wasn’t rational.

“Jean-François wait, I don’t understand. Why are you sayin’ all this?” She whispered mournfully.

He seemed to sober from his trembling and sighed, “I think the…Grief of seeing Warsaw reminded me of when I lost my estate in Alsace when Nazis occupied France last year. I’m sorry, it seems like I can’t think straight anymore. This bloody war.” He hung his head and rubbed his forehead.

She covered his hand with her own, “I wanna go.” She said in a small voice.

He looked up at her aghast, as if he truly wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“If there’s a way we can get out of here—which, I believe we can. Neither of us are Jewish, or well, me dad was but it isn’t important, nor on me records. Then let’s go Jean-François.”

“Betty-”

“I’m tired of livin’ like this. I’m tired of seein that bloody red flag all over the place. I’m tired of curfews and food rations and fearing that a bomb will just end us all.” She looked at him with tears in her eyes as she ran a hand over Mark’s head. “I’m scared for me son. I want him to have a good life. I want him to be able to run around outside and read whatever books he want and not what the Nazis tell ‘im to. I wanna..I wanna life with you. I wanna be free.”

Jean-François rose from his seat, his eggs forgotten as he sat in front of Betty on his haunches and ran his hand over her cheek. “I want that too. I want that for you, for us Betty.” He hugged her close and held her as she shuddered.

“Can we really go?” She whispered into his neck.

“We can certainly try.”

They pulled back and looked in each other’s eyes. Hope, fear, determination and love were what they saw. They pressed their foreheads together with a smile and whispered at the same time.

“ _I love you._ ”

~*~*~

They spent that entire day planning. Wrapped up in each other’s arms and soaking in their dreams and wishes of a better life.

“I’d be able to hunt again.”

“I’d cook good meals from it.”

He kissed the top of her head, “And you’d have a magnificent garden.”

Betty giggled and sighed dreamily, turning her head into his collar and she whispered, “And I wouldn’t be so scared anymore.”

His arms tightened, “Are you afraid now?”

“Not when ‘m with you.”

“You don’t need me to be brave.”

She just hummed at that and curled into him closer.

“I can try and get tickets for us tonight, we can as soon as possible.”

“What about your work Jean-François?”

“As much as I enjoy it, I can do it anywhere. I will find new work, so long as I do my part to help. Then I won’t feel like I’m quitting.”

She smiled and hugged him, “Quite right. Cos you ain’t a quitter.”

“Betty?”

“Yeah?”

“I...I’m nervous to leave you here tonight. I don’t know how long it will take for me to convince my co workers to let me leave and get tickets, and set up our travel arrangements.”

“Oh...well tha’s okay.”

“If there is any danger, if you fear that someone might come in the house tonight I want you to close those shutters outside your window. I will return and if I see those shut, I’ll know to help you.”

“...D’ya think someone might come after me tonight?”

“I won’t lie mon ange, it is possible. But that’s why I need you to close those shutters. So that way I’ll know—and even if you can’t,” he interrupted her before she rebutted, knowing what she was going to say, “even if you can’t close the shutters for some reason I’ll still be on guard.”

She relaxed more against him, “My brave knight.”

By the time Mercier got up to leave it was dusk, the sky of orange illuminated the street as they kissed one another goodbye on the porch. Their arms were wrapped tight as their bodies molded together in a kiss that wasn’t a goodbye, but a hello; a hello to a brighter future. Together.

She waved goodbye to him as he walked away and he smiled back. When he was fully gone she turned back into the house to get started on Mark’s  
dinner, unaware she didn’t close the door.

“Marky luv! Ready for supper?” She cooed to him in the kitchen as he sat on the counter.

  
“Better set an extra plate for me then luv.” A voice interrupted her and Betty turned with a gasp, “Or should we save that extra plate for whoever it is you’re currently fucking behind my back.”

Betty’s entire body shook and coherent sentences seemed to fail her, she could only croak, “Donald?”

~*~*~

It was not long before Mercier cheerfully made his way back to Betty’s. As she predicted it was not hard to obtain permission to travel do to Mercier’s military attachments. He was able to leave as a cause for war. After making it perfectly clear to his Embassy that he would continue to work and help the cause they obligingly reposted him to New York as long as he agreed to continue to help Allied forces during the war. However, any signs of serious trouble they’d bring him right back.

He thanked his lucky stars and couldn’t wait to tell Betty the good news, he rounded the corner and made his way to her house. He stopped dead in his tracks.

The shutters were closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil laughter*


	13. Échapper à la Liberté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after chapter 12's ending, and a chance for our lovers to really talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Strong violence in the beginning and mentions of it later, but don't worry, I make up for it with fluff and lots of it!  
> This chapter I'm actually excited about, I worked extra hard on it because I wanted to make Mercier and Betty, sound like Mercier and Betty! I think I did pretty well on Mercier's part with his thoughts and feelings and I even have a little *wink* moment towards the very end, you can't miss it! xo

**Previously:** _He thanked his lucky stars and couldn’t wait to tell Betty the good news, he rounded the corner to her street and stopped dead in his tracks._

  _The shutters were closed_.

_~*~*~_

 

 _"Merde!_ No please! NO!” Jean-François whispered as his mind imagined the worst. He strode over to the side of her house and rounded his way to the back. This door would lead him to Betty’s kitchen. He pressed his back against the door and from his pockets withdrew his handgun and pressed his ear to the screen, assessing what the danger was so he could create a plan. Silently praying to a God he didn’t much believe in that Betty was okay.

“How could you do this Betty?!” A man’s voice cried.

“You were gone Donald! You left me and Mark! What was I s’posed to do? Wait around forever? Donald I thought you was dead!”

“We’re _married_ Betty! I’m your bloody husband! I go off to help my family in need and I come back to find you shagging some random bloke?! How dare you!” Donald’s voice grew less intelligible and more slurred as he continued his shouting, and Jean-François quickly deduced the man was drunk. However he couldn’t see if he had a weapon drawn, so Jean-François did the most painful thing—he waited. He waited for a cause, he knew Betty was strong enough to handle this confrontation but that did not ale his surging fear. “Who put you up to it eh? Was it that friend Susan of yours? She shaggin’ another man while her soldier husband is off fighting for her then?”

 “No! It’s not like that with Susan! It—it…” Jean-François heard Betty take a breath and calm herself, “Her husband was _drafted_ Donald. You just left, you ran from this war instead of fighting...I got no letters from you, no care packages. I had to sell mum’s jewelry, I had to bargain before I could get a ration card! How do I even know you actually went to the Channel Islands?! Donald Marren you bite your tongue about soldiers and heroes because _I_ put me own health at risk to feed our- no _me own_ son. _I_ did it. _I_ am the hero in this marriage, not you. You, Donald Marren, you’re a coward.”  

Jean-François’ heart filled with pride as Betty’s words sunk in. Finally, _finally_ she knew how amazing she was.

His thoughts were shattered same as the glassware he heard from in the house.

“You daft bitch!” Donald’s voice roared and Betty screamed. Mercier kicked down the door to find a tall man with red-rimmed ocean blue eyes, brown sweaty hair, scruff along his cheeks and monstrous hands—and they were wrapped around Betty’s throat. He had her on the table as Betty’s back was inhumanly bent backwards as Donald loomed over her.

Jean-François wasted no time pushing Donald with all his might, tumbling with him to the ground. Somehow the gun was knocked away from his hand and the two men rolled and wrestled on the floor.

“She’s _my_ wife you sodding bastard!” Donald yelled and Jean-François felt a bit ill at the stench of alcohol.

“Unff–You left her. Now, now she’s with me.” He ground out as Donald’s hands wrapped around his throat. Jean-François’ vision started to go white and noises started to fade, far in the background he could hear Betty sobbing and shouting. _Don’t cry my Betty, I love your smiling face most of all._

Then as sudden as the pain came it stopped. Jean-François heard a very loud crack and the hands around his throat ceased their assault and he felt Donald’s weight crash on top of him.

 

Jean-François pushed Donald’s unconscious body off him and took a few gasping breaths as his senses returned. He saw Donald collapsed on the floor, a bit of blood leaking from his head and a broken plate on the floor from when Donald charged at her. The ringing in his ears stopped and he could hear Betty softly muttering. The room was overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and cigars... Then he saw her. His beautiful, brave girl, shaking with a broken cup in her hand. She had smashed the glass over Donald’s head, and it appears she had done a good job.

Jean-François stood up and cautiously approached her, as he would a skittish animal. “Betty? Betty, darling— _mon ange_.” She raised her wide eyes to him and tears filled them. “Betty put the glass down, you’ve hurt yourself. Come here.”

He slowly approached her and took the glass from her, which had caused some fingers on her left hand to start bleeding. He pulled her into his arms and she started to sob.

“I got the shutters closed, I got ‘em closed.” She repeated over and over again.

He rocked them from side to side and frantically pressed kisses to the top of her head. “Yes you did Betty, you did. And I am _so_ glad you did, so thankful. You did it. I’m here Betty, I’ve got you.” 

Once her sobs subsided to shaking breaths she turned to look at him. “Did he hurt ya?” She whispered.

Jean-François chuckled and swiped hair away, “I should be asking you that.” His small smile faltered at the sight of red angry finger marks along her throat, “Betty…” His throat swelled up.

“M’ fine,” she mumbled, turning her head away, “ ‘sides, we match.” She lightly chuckled at the marks on his throat as well. She lightly pressed her lips to them and his arms came around her tight.

“Betty we have to leave- now! Waste no time!” Jean-François gathered some cloth from on top of her stove and tightly wrapped it over Betty’s injured fingers and pressed a kiss to them. “Pack all you need _mon ange_ , but pack lightly and-” Jean-François’ eyes grew wide and his head frantically turned, “Where’s Mark?!”

“In his room. I…I’ll tell you later.” She whispered and her eyes watered.

He kissed her cheek, “Don’t cry Betty, you will tell me later. For now,” he kissed her lips, “let’s go.”

After making sure Donald was still alive Jean-François got word his colleagues and told them of the incident, they agreed to make sure this matter wouldn’t bother them anymore. With that, Jean-François, Betty and Mark left with their hands held tight and hearts determined. This was only the beginning.

 

~*~*

 

They walked 7 kilometers away from the neighborhood to an open field where an Embassy-ordered plane was waiting for them. After Jean-François thanked his colleagues he took Betty’s free hand and walked her and Mark onto the plane.

Betty set Mark down towards the back, nestled in with blankets and pillows and lulled him to sleep, confident that not even the roar of the engine could wake him. Jean-François stepped in and spoke to the pilot of where to land in New York.

The plane was very small, and a bit cramped. The seats were to the sides and all the cargo was stacked in wooden boxes all around them. It was meant for soldiers more than a pair of lovers and a toddler.

“We’re all set,” Jean-François announced to her then with a coy smile sat next to her, “I’m sorry I couldn’t obtain a more comfortable plane.”

“Hey,” she placed her hand over his, “S’alright. It’s perfect. It’s..it’s freedom.” She smiled

 He beamed at her and caressed her cheek, “Betty, what happened? When I left I, I wasn’t gone very long. How did he get in? What happened?”

She smiled and covered his hand on her cheek with hers, “Slow down, ‘s fine. I’ll tell you.”

He nodded and watched her as she nervously toyed with her right hand. “Right so...You left an’ I was gonna make Marky some dinner but then I heard his voice an’...It all went a bit wonky afterwards.” She closed her eyes and recalled in horrible detail.

 

 

_“Donald?” She whispered._

_“In the flesh luv.” He looked pale and a bit thinner. His cheeks had uneven scruff on it, his clothes dirty and his hands unwashed. He was drinking heavily, a bottle of Scotch and he staggered closer to her. “Well well, looks like the war’s been kind to you hasn’t it?”_

_“I..I dunno what you mean.” She looked helplessly at Mark, “Mark sweetie, please go into your room so Mummy can talk.”_

_Mark sucked his thumb but trotted away to his room, and she breathed out in relief._

_“Daddy’ll be in soon lad.” Donald said and Betty felt ill. He turned back to her, anger in his eyes, “Save it Betty! I watched this house all day! I was gonna surprise you by coming in during lunch but then I saw him! That curly haired man in my house with my son and you! First I thought he was a Nazi, a soldier sent to live with you but no. No it’s your new beau innit?”  He sneered and the stench of his breath so close to her made Betty gag._

_“Donald you can’t..I can’t...Donald I don’t love you anymore.”_

  _"Oh is that so?” He growled and stepped even closer to her, grabbing her wrists in a bruising grip._

  _“Donald, stop please. You’ve never been violent before, I know you’re better than this. Let’s just talk, yeah? Like adults? Please Mark’s just down the hall. Don’t do this,” she whispered. “Please.”_

_Reluctantly, he let go and she staggered away from him. She took a few calming breaths and made her way to the front of the house and did the only thing she could think of._

_She closed the shutters._

 

 

Jean-François’ arms wrapped around her after he ran his hands over her arms. “I should have been there sooner, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you saved me.”

He smiled and kissed her head, “Actually it was _you_ who saved _me_.” His face turned stoic again, “What happened then? After you closed the shutters.”

She shrugged and touched her right palm again and she hid her palm to her chest. This time the motion caught his eye, but he said nothing.

“After that he jus’...started drinkin’ more. Got himself pissed and was angry with me as you saw. Started yellin’ at me, called me names, you know...But he smoked a cigar, which was new.” She mumbled and once again went to scratch her palm but, before she could Jean-François caught her hand and brought her palm to his face. He gasped at the sight and he felt his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

 

Betty had been burned with the cigar.

 

“Jean-François wait, lemme explain.” She tried to take her hand back but he wouldn’t let her. His huffing breath was cooling to the aching burn but she could tell he was angry.

“I should have killed him.” He growled.

“It was an accident.”

His eyebrows rose, “What?”

“Donald was drunk, like really really drunk. An’ he was staggerin with the cigar and started to come to me, think he was tryin’ to kiss me. But I didn’t want him so I pushed him away and me hand got burned...He tried to say sorry though.”

“ _Merde_ Betty! Do not defend that fool!” He snarled, “You should have told me sooner!”

Tears welled in her eyes, “I didn’t wanna talk before. I jus’ wanted to leave. ‘M sorry.”

Jean-François’ shoulders slumped, “No, I am. I shouldn’t be upsetting you more,” He pressed his lips to her palm, eliciting a new burning sensation on her skin. “Come here _mon ange_.” His voice was so calming she just couldn’t resist. He held her tight through her shaking. He clasped her head in his hands and swiped her tears away. “We did it Betty, we’re free. You did it, you did it and I am so proud.” He kissed her forehead, “I love you Betty.”

When she didn’t say it back he frowned and looked at her, “What’s the matter?”

“You still love me?”

“More than anything.”

“Even...even after all this?” She gestured to her neck and hand.

“Betty, none of that matters. Those marks will heal and eventually so will you, and I want you." He laughed, “I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t and I do, I want you. I always will.” He kissed her cheek and frowned again, “What brought this on?”

“Dunno,” she lowered her eyes. “ ‘S just we’re a lot different aren’t we? This is somethin’ me an’ you haven’t talked about yet. You’re so...important. You got people willing to cover up crimes for you— even though I know it’s more complicated than that.” She added quickly at the sign of his protest. She rested her forehead against his. “Sometimes I can’t believe it.” She whispered.

“Believe what?”

“That a man like you could love someone like me. ‘S just like I said. You’re important. People rely on you and you’ve got power and money and class and...You’re above me Jean-François.”

She heard him utter a curse in French and he took her head in his hands, “Have I ever made you feel like that Betty?”

“No but—”

“Because it isn’t true.”

“Wha?”

“Do you not realize? _Mon Dieu_ Betty I thought you knew! Betty…” He took a deep breath and willed her eyes to stare into his. “I don’t give a damn about where you come from, your social class, your religion _,_ it doesn’t matter to me! I fell in love with you because you are beautiful, and you are clever, and you are just filled with compassion for everyone. Even those who don’t deserve it you find a way to be kind and while I’ll never understand that, I understand that I’ve not felt this way for someone in a very, very long time.”

“You... was married before me right?”

“Yes…How did you know, I’ve never mentioned her.”

“I er uh...I may have heard a bit of gossip about you whenever I went to town. Sorry.” She bit her lip and blushed when he rose his eyebrows.

“You’ve been checking up on me.” A sly grin appeared across his face.

“Yeah well...from what I heard it just proves me point. You’re still…”

“What? _Above you?_ ” He said the words as if they made him ill. He sighed, “Betty, you may have been extremely emotional but do you remember what you told Donald? Right before he...attacked you?”

“Kinda.” She mumbled.

“You went on this whole module about how you were the hero, and you know what? You’re right...Betty you’re one of the bravest women I’ve ever met. You...you have saved me in more ways than just tonight. Betty, I have seen horrible things in my life, I was trained to never trust people, I have been molded into this—stoic  soldier who looks for the bad before the good. But you,” he cupped her cheek, “you’re so kind and loving. People rely on you too. You’re raising a wonderful son, and I know you have friends who count on you too. You’re just...You have to know how wonderful you are.”

She sniffled and hugged him. Burying her head into his chest. “Okay.” She whispered, “I’ll try. For you.”

He leaned over and kissed by her ear and huskily whispered, “And by the way, the only possible way I could ever enjoy being _above you_ , is when I’m making love to you.” He kissed her blush.

“You nutter!” She laughed and ducked her head away.

“I love you, Betty.”

“I love you Jean-François,” she sobered and turned to him fully with tears down her cheeks. “There’s so much I haven’t said to you. So much I was afraid of an’...Blimey.” She pressed her palms to his chest ignoring the sting of stretching her burn mark. “I don’t think I was ever happy with Donald. I think I was foolin’ meself...Don’t get me wrong the only good thing that came from marrying Donald was Mark. I’ll never ever regret me son.” She jutted her chin out and he smiled in agreement. “But then you came ‘round and I just kept thinkin’ ...about how nice it would be to kiss you.” She blushed at his sharp intake of breath. She raised her eyes to him and said, “I love you with all I’ve got Jean-François. I just hope it’s enough.”

His eyes glistened, “It’s more than enough.” And he kissed her, he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth after wetting it with his tongue and gently nibbled on it. She moaned but eased them out of their kiss, she had more to say. Both were panting and she rested her forehead to his.

“And...I think you’re good too. You’ve saved me and me son and I can’t thank you enough I just...Crickey you’re my hero,” She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve, “I bet you think your past makes you bad but you aren’t. You’re good, you’re so, so…” She shook her head, closed her eyes and smiled, “ _Magnifique.”_ She sighed as she remembered the first words he said when he entered her the first time.

She heard him gasp and in an instant she was wrapped in the tightest hug she had ever received. She giggled and kissed the side of his head as he burrowed it into her shoulder.

“ _Mon ange…”_ He breathed and squeezed her tighter.

“Whats that mean by the way?”

He pulled back and brushed a few hairs from her face, “My angel.” He whispered.

Tears filled her eyes and she smiled and laughed once in disbelief. Betty never thought she could be this happy, not even with Donald.

“So what happens now Jean-François?”

He shrugged, “We survive. We live. We flourish.” He sat back in the seat and gestured for her to put her head in his lap. “Get some sleep Betty, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

“Will we be okay Jean-François?”

He ran a hand through her hair and said softly, there’s an old French saying, “ _Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid.”_

She hummed and smiled, she loved when he spoke French, “Whas that mean?”

“Little by little, the bird makes its nest.”

“Meaning…?” She drawled out the word and he lightly tickled her side

“We’ll be okay Betty.” He smiled and gestured again for her to lay her head down on his lap.

“You gonna be alright sitting like that?”

He nodded, “Sure I will. I once had to sleep against a tree like this.”

She laid her head down in his lap, “Will you tell me why?”

He bent over and kissed her cheek, “Someday.”

“Hmmm, you said this journey will be long?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

She felt him him chuckle, “Long. Go to sleep Betty.”

After a few minutes of his fingers running through her hair and his soft humming, Betty joined Mark in slumber

When her breathing evened out Jean-François leaned his head against the wall and said, “The rest of our lives _mon ange._ This journey will take the rest of our lives _._ ”

~*~*~

 

They arrived in New York many hours later, all 3 of them dreadfully tired but relieved to be there.

Feet on the soil of a more free nation, they stared at the nighttime cityscape from the outer field they landed.

He took her hand in his and she turned her head with a tearful and hopeful smile.

 

“As the French would say, _Allons-y_ Betty! Let’s go, and really begin our lives together.” He winked at her.

She giggled and turned to Mark who looked just as tired but captivated by the city.

“Mumma?” he looked up at her

Betty bent down and kissed his cheek, “You’ll sleep again soon luv, for now we gotta go okay?” She smiled and stood and ran her hand through his hair.

“The three of us, yeah?” She turned to Jean-François.

He kissed her hand and smiled in Mark’s direction, “Forever.”

Their love was an unexpected one. A journey of two souls who spent years unhappy, unbeknownst to them that the answer to their problems was within the same street.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see there is but 1 chapter left and that will be the Epilogue! Voisins has come to an end and it does make my heart heavy. I truly hope those who've read this story have enjoyed it! Thank you for sticking with me during my long times of hiatus, it feels great to write again! This story has meant a lot to me and the fact that people have liked it means more to me than I can explain! 
> 
> I do hope to write more Mercier and Betty ASAP! Maybe add to this Verse, we shall see! In the meantime feel free to submit any prompts or requests you might have for future fics or pairings either in the comments or my tumblr // aneclipsedhabitue.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thank you all, thank you so much.


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following years of Jean-François and Betty's lives
> 
> Note: This chapter is explicit towards the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Here it is! The final chapter and oh it's is so bittersweet to say goodbye! 
> 
> Thank you for being on this journey. I have to be honest, I'm proud of this story.
> 
> Or at least from chapters 9 and up. I daresay my writing has improved and I think it's evident as the story progresses so if you ever wind up recommending this fic to anyone, full disclosure: It gets better later. Suffer through 8 chapters of meh and then 6 more of "Ight."
> 
> In all seriousness all your comments and kudos are what kept me going. It's all thanks to you. 
> 
> I do hope to write more of these two, and other teninch and doctor/rose fics! We'll just see where the wind takes me! 
> 
> Until then, thank you. Just....Thank you <3
> 
> All my love.

Jean-François never forgot the day he first saw Betty Marren walk into his yard. Her lovely face, plump cheeks and luscious lips he dreamt of so often. He heard her voice speak to him that morning and for the first time in years his heart skipped a beat. This woman would be the death of him. From that point on, his only goal was not only to get her in his sheets, but make sure she would never leave them again. A few months later he had succeeded.

It was July 1941 when they arrived in America and moved to Armonk, outside the city. Jean-François and Betty adjusted to American life swimmingly. Betty got a job tailoring soldier’s uniforms while Jean-François found The Consulate General of France. Though located at Rockefeller Center and further from the house than Betty’s job, commuting was not foreign to him. His job there was much less dangerous and Betty worried he might get bored, but each time he came home at night it seemed the worry lines around his eyes were fading and his smiles grew wider. He still thought Americans were a bit blasé and naive about the grimness of war, but Jean-François was serene. Something neither of them anticipated but were relieved to discover.

Betty and Jean-François found their haven in their newfound freedom. They got to know each other more, they tried new things, went new places. They occasionally argued but made up with fantastique sex. Both of them had never felt more fulfilled and content in either of their lives. They spoke about getting married, but that they wanted to do in Paris and they decided to wait until it was liberated to do so.

Mark began primary school and started speaking more, thankfully to Betty still maintaining an English accent. On more than one occasion, he called Jean-François “Dada” and with warm eyes Jean-François regarded him as his son and began teaching him French. He and Betty discussed having more children, but both agreed they wanted to wait until the war ended.

Their home had a garden, and the house was next to a large forest where Jean-François would go hunting deep amongst the trees. She was happy, just as he promised and Mercier flourished just as she expected.

Betty eventually received a telegram a few months after their arrival from her sister Margaret. She told her Donald had left Leeds and no one had seen him. Jean-François put an arm around her shoulder and offered his sympathies.

“No,” she said, “He’s no matter anymore. You’re the only one for me.”

She was sore between her legs for a few days after that.

Betty had made plenty of friends at the tailoring shop, and phoned Susan for a visit in the summertime. Betty also fell in love with the cinema, she found one closeby that would play films already released. Her favorite film was Disney’s _Fantasia_.

It took until later in 1943 for Jean-François to be called back to France to assist the Allies in liberating occupied territories. He worried about leaving her but since Betty arrived in America, she had found new strength. She would more than able to handle a few months of separation.

 

  
It didn’t make their goodbye less painful. Jean-François patted Mark’s head and told him to be good for his Mum and promised to bring him back a toy. Betty got a neighbor to watch Mark while she and Jean-François headed to the airport.

“You should go back, Betty.” He sighed solemnly when they reached the gate.

Her lip trembled, “Why?”

“Because I can’t leave you like this,” he nodded his head at her tears and stepped forward to kiss her. “Please. Go back home and thrive. Be brave for me.” He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I swear.”

With one last breathtaking kiss, they reluctantly separated.

Letters came weekly, then bi weekly and for one Earth shattering month Betty received nothing. Her knees nearly gave out when the French Embassy phoned her and told her Mercier was injured on a mission and was unable to contact her. Betty wanted to fly to see him but when she heard his groggy voice on the phone telling her to remain put and wait for him, she listened.

  
He returned just after New Years in the start of 1944, perfectly well and perfectly amourous. His work helping The Allies would continue but at least he would be able to do the rest of it back with Betty. When he came back she felt the sun glowed just for them. Together they could survive any war, any separation, and anyone who would ever dare try and come between them.

 

~*~*~

March, 1944

In the outset of dawn Betty staggered out of her. home, her American home in the outskirts of New York. Mark and Jean-François were hopefully still asleep. Betty woke from a frightening dream and gently eased out of Jean-François’ grip. She wanted desperately to be around her flowers in her beloved garden.

Betty, still in her pajamas and a pair of flats made her way around her little garden, the sun just coming up and the soil nice and cool. She was just about to water her growing peonies when she felt a hand on her back.

“Sorry!,” he whispered fiercely when she startled, “I was just checking to make sure you weren’t sleepwalking.” Jean-François’ voice was low and husky and made heat blossom through her body.

Betty turned around and sat fully on her bum and watched as he crouched in front of her. His eyes were struggling to stay open and his pajama shirt collar was open, exposing his next she lovingly leaned over and kissed. “You should go get some sleep.”

“Mhmm, _you_ should go get some more sleep.” He opened his eyes and blinked hard a few times. He took her hand in his. “Why are you out here Betty? It’s merely the crack of dawn.”

She mumbled and looked down, “Just had a bad dream. Didn’t want to wake you.”

He kissed her hand, “You should have.”

She shrugged.

“Was it about Donald?”

“No.”

“That man William?”

“No.”

Jean-François stared at her a moment before his voice lowered an octave, “Was it about me?”

She bit her lip and lowered her eyes, “No. No look, it’s not important. ‘M sorry, I shouldn't've woken you.”

She heard him hum and he took her face in his hands and slowly kissed her. A soft gentle press which he deepened when her hands ran through his hair. He slowly bent her down into the grass and hiked her leg over his so he was nestled between her.

“Hmmm, have you ever made love outside?” He asked as he nipped down her jaw and neck.

Her eyes were closed in blissful serenity at the feel of cool damp grass and his hot hands roaming over her. “You know I haven’t.”

He pulled back and smirked and started tugging her pajama shirt off. She caught his wrist, “We can’t! The neighbors, and what if Mark comes round?”

“ _Mon ange_ it’s barely dawn, and if Mark is anything like an average growing boy he won’t be up for hours.” He took her earlobe between his teeth. “And as for the neighbors,” his hand found his way between her legs and she gasped. “Fuck them.” He whispered.

She shook her head and he stilled, “No,” she whispered and leaned up into his ear, “fuck _me_ instead.”

A kiss shaped with a growl and his tongue rummaging through her mouth. His other hand found its way to her breast and in a matter of seconds her nightshirt was popped open and buttons were scattered amongst the bushes. Her nipples hardened at the cool air and she moaned when his mouth left hers and trapped one of the peaking buds.

She bucked her hips into his hand on her folds once but started to sit up. He pulled back too, eyes wide with confusion and lust, with a mirthful look in her eyes she turned around on all fours and dug her nails into the grass.

“ _Ohhh, mon ange_ ,” his voice was strangled.

“I heard,” she gulped. “You can get deeper this way.”

His sultry voice was in her ear as she felt his weight rest lightly on top hers. His arms gently held her around her belly, rubbing soothing circles and then traveling upwards to her breasts. “And _where_ did you hear that?”

“Dunno. Some magazine, or some women in the shop.” She shook her head and craned her neck to him, “Take me Jean-François. Hard.”

He strangled a moan and in a swift motion her pants were down and he was poised at her entrance. He slicked his cock up against her in a few experimental roll of his hips and she groaned low and hungrily.

His hand reached over and covered her own, “Ready?” He whispered. Knowing she had never been taken like this before, he didn’t want to overwhelm her despite his rapidly growing desire. She nodded and he was in her in seconds.

She gasped and threw her head back, he turned his head and captured her lips between his own. He remained still for a moment, simply tasting her and calming her with his tongue. She broke the kiss and bent her head forward and pushed back into him, encouraging him to move. He complied with a smirk and began pounding frantically into her.

Betty’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the strands of grass hard in her hands and she gasped when his hand reached around her and rubbed at her clit. “Betty look up.” She heard him growl. Betty opened her eyes wide just in time to see the orange sun arise in a pink and purple sky and the sight brought tears in her eyes. She came with a cry and smiled wide. Loving the warmth radiating from the sun and the feeling of him inside her, stretching and pleasuring her in ways she never thought possible.

A few more fierce thrusts and she heard him moan and knew he was going to pull out of her. She grabbed his hand and through her cries begged him, “Finish inside me.”

He groaned frustratedly but gripped her hips in both his hands and pushed deeper inside her two times more and pulsed. Throbbing, warm and wet. He panted and rested his forehead against her back and hugged her close. Kissing her head, ear and cheek.

“I love you, I love you so much.” He whispered.

He laid her down gently and she turned around in his arms and started up lovingly at him. He rested against his forearms on either side of her body. “I love you too.” She bit her lip and peered into his eyes, “Were you okay with that? Finishing...like _that_?”

He nodded slowly but his eyes grew wide, “I was, but were _you_? Please tell me I didn’t just do something you weren’t fully comfortable with.” Despite Jean-François’ sometimes hedonistic relations with women in the past he always made sure his lovers were comfortable, and since Betty was now his only and most important companion he would never dare harm her.

She nodded with a smile, “I was, it was amazing. An’ I know we said we was gonna wait to have children but....”

He smiled gently and with a tilt of his head, “I feel the same way. Now is a good time...And it was amazing, yes. But, it’s more fun when I get to _see_ you.”

Her cheeks burned red and she half smiled. “In a bit,” she whispered. “Gimme a mo’. Your waitin’ period is a lot shorter than mine.”

He laughed and gently kissed her lips and laid down beside her. He picked up one of her hands and toyed with her fingers, “Are you happy _mon ange_?”

She brought their intertwined hands to her lips and nodded. “I’m happy as long as I’m with you.”

He hummed and rolled to his side and she mimicked him. He brought up his hand and ran it from her eyebrow, down her cheek and throat and lightly traced a still hardened nipple through the fabric of her partially closed shirt.

“Just imagine if you had never stumbled into my yard that day.”

She laughed drily, “I can’t. I can’t even begin to think like that.”

“Do you think we got lucky, Betty?” He whispered.

She blinked for a moment and worried her lip, “I think….You and I fought hard for each other. Fought the war, fought Donald and William, fought separation….” She leaned over closer to him. “I dunno if I believe in fate, I just believe in us. And ‘m really lucky to have you Jean-François.”

His smile was so warm and his gaze so tender, she couldn’t help but delightfully peck his lips. She sighed and laid back down on her back. Wanting to remain in this moment for just a little longer. She closed her eyes and mentally regarded every single detail of this amazing morning.

She opened her eyes when she felt him shift his weight on top of her, “ _I_ am very lucky to have _you_ , Betty.” He kissed her cheek, “You sweet girl.” He kissed her neck, “My sweet girl.” He hovered his head over hers for a moment, faces mere centimeters apart. “You’re right. We did fight for one another. and we will continue to do so. You are worth more to me than any material item or battle victory I have had or could ever have.”

She felt her eyes brim with tears and she hugged him close. “You an’ me, are just getting started Jean-François. We’ll be magnificent.” She whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her closer to him. Burrying his face and hand in her hair. “ _Toujours et à jamais mon ange_.”

  
Forever and always.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: They wash off each other's grass stains in the shower right after that ;) 
> 
> Thanks again, from all of my heart.


End file.
